


Our Fortunes Written in the Stars

by sinestrated



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Amputation, M/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinestrated/pseuds/sinestrated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the defeat of the Adephagos, Yuri has settled comfortably in Dahngrest as a member of Brave Vesperia. Certain circumstances have led him to cut off all contact with Flynn, but when his friend shows up in the woods one day, grievously injured and near death, Yuri finds he can't run from their relationship anymore. They grow closer as Flynn heals, but a new threat to the peace of Terca Lumireis might just end up destroying everything they cherish most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Fortunes Written in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yeah, I don't know how this happened either.
> 
> Just fyi, I wrote the first 90% of this fic while in the middle of a ToV playthrough. Then, once I finished the game, I abandoned the fic. A few days earlier, I dug it back up and decided to try and finish it. As a result, the last 10% of the fic is pretty much a copout. I apologize, and hope you enjoy regardless.

If there was one thing Yuri hated about Tolbyccia, it was the monsters.

Sure, he was adept enough with a weapon that he could dispatch most without a sweat. And sure, sometimes he even _enjoyed_ the fights, reveling in the rush of adrenaline, the heightened awareness that sharpened his senses and made his blood sing in his veins. He’d grown up with it, after all.

What he _didn’t_ appreciate was having to fight what seemed like every monster on the whole damned continent in the span of a few hours. While having a spoiled, dainty seventeen-year-old hanging off his arm and squealing the entire time for him to _Please save me, Mr. Lowell, please protect me!_

A sharp twinge sprang up from his shoulder and Yuri grimaced, rubbing at the sore muscles with the hand not currently holding his sword. Really, he’d _known_ this particular client would be trouble: the typical pompous, overfed noble with a purse the size of fucking Desier, who didn’t think twice about setting down enough money to cover his fee ten times over, just so he wouldn’t have to wait another few hours for some other guild to become available. Yuri hated him on the spot. He reminded him too much of those arrogant assholes back in the Royal Quarter in Zaphias.

Money was money, though, and in the end, Yuri hadn’t argued when Karol decided to accept the job. It sounded pretty straightforward, anyway: just an escort from Dahngrest to Heliord, fight a few monsters along the way and voila, ten thousand gald for the trouble. Yuri figured as long as he kept his distance from the client, they’d make it there without incident.

And the client himself really hadn’t been much trouble: in typical aristocratic fashion, he’d spared them barely a word or a passing glance throughout the journey. No, the trouble instead lay with the client’s airheaded, spoiled brat of a daughter.

No amount of money could make up for the wringer she’d put them through—or, well, him, specifically. Because Lilah, dear apple of her father’s eye, had taken one look at Yuri and instantly decided she wanted him. And what Lilah wanted, Lilah got.

It started with blushes and titters, not-so-subtle touches and looks that were probably meant to be smoldering but instead just made her look vaguely constipated. Then it had turned into “Oh, I’ve hurt my foot—please carry me, Mr. Lowell!” and “I’m so very cold, Mr. Lowell, could you put your arm around me?” until Yuri was ready to throw her off the nearest cliff.

In an impressive—and uncharacteristic—show of restraint, he had tried his best to decline her advances as politely as possible. After all, there was a difference between not minding being in jail and actual _jailbait_ —and even if she had been closer to his own age, Yuri doubted all the money in the world would have been enough to get him to return her attentions. But Lilah hadn’t taken the hint—Yuri suspected she wouldn’t have taken it had Karol strapped it to one of his hammers and hit her over the head with it—and it only got worse as more time passed. Near the end there, Yuri could have sworn he saw her pouring the contents of a Dark Bottle over the hem of her dress, before launching herself at him and basically becoming nothing but an extra hundred pounds of screaming dead weight as they fought off the resulting beasts.

By the time they finally arrived in Heliord, Yuri was about ready to run his sword through _her_. Karol and Judith saw, of course, and thankfully, wrapped up business as soon as possible. However, Yuri still made it clear as soon as they were out of earshot that they would be screening all their clients from now on. _Thoroughly._ Karol mumbled an apology and Judith just giggled, but neither of them argued the point and that was all Yuri cared about.

Now, thank the stars, they were finally headed back to Dahngrest. As his muscles continued to protest every step, Yuri couldn’t help but wish Ba’ul were still around. Technically Judith could still call him, but they’d sort of reached a collective agreement after defeating the Adephagos that the Entelexeia should not be bound to the other races—human or Krityan—any longer. So they walked.

At least now, Dahngrest was less than an hour away. Yuri couldn’t wait to get back to their little guild headquarters, take a shower, and crash for a few hours. Maybe then he’d stop wishing with every step he took that Lilah would trip on her expensive silk skirts and break her stupid, dainty neck.

Something cold and wet bumped his hand, and he looked down and smiled. “Nah, everything’s fine, Repede. Just eager to get home, is all.”

The war dog whined in agreement, single eye bright with sympathy as he nudged Yuri’s hand again. Yuri gave him a brief, affectionate scratch behind his ear before shouting ahead, “Hey, boss! We don’t have any other jobs lined up, right?”

“None that are pressing,” Karol answered, barely glancing up from the notebook he was paging through. “We can afford to take the rest of the day off.” He’d finally outgrown his flustered reaction to being called “boss” all the time. At sixteen, Karol had outgrown a lot of things.

Next to him, Judith slung her spear casually over her shoulder and gave him one of her mysterious, alluring smiles. “Don’t worry, Yuri,” she said, “there’s plenty of hot water for you.”

Yuri snorted, partly in annoyance but mostly to quash the slight feeling of unease that always arose whenever Judith seemed to read his mind like this. “After the crap that girl pulled? You guys owe me a trip to freakin’ Yumanju or something.”

“Ah, but in order to pay for that, we’d need to cater to more clients just like them,” Judith said.

Yuri growled. “Tch. Forget it. In that case, I’d rather just wallow in mud.”

“Yeah, that’s the last time we take a job based strictly on pay,” Karol said. “I don’t care how much money her dad forked over; watching Lilah hang off you like a limpet made me wanna puke.”

Yuri opened his mouth, fully intent on a sarcastic remark about how next time _Karol_ could be the one to deal with the enamored teenage girls, thank you very much, when suddenly Repede gave a soft woof and froze in place. His spine stiffened, tail rising as he sniffed at the air, and then with another bark he spun and dashed off into the woods.

Yuri’s sword was unsheathed in his hand before he was even fully aware of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karol and Judith with their weapons similarly up at the ready, braced for an attack. Throughout their entire journey to Heliord, Repede had usually been the one to detect the monsters first. Lilah and her Dark Bottle trick or no, there was no reason to expect otherwise now.

They waited for a moment. Then two. Just when Yuri was beginning to wonder if Repede had just run off to pee on a tree or something, his dog suddenly reappeared out of the shrubbery, headed straight for him. Yuri frowned. “Repede, what did you—hey!”

But Repede didn’t let go of Yuri’s sleeve, whining as he tugged on the cloth. The sound was high-pitched and panicked, so different from his usual regal howl, and Yuri instantly felt his own anxiety ratchet up a notch. Repede wasn’t angry, or defensive, or ready for a fight. He was _terrified_.

Repede whimpered, tugging on Yuri’s sleeve again. Ahead of them, Karol lowered his axe just slightly, expression confused. “What’s going on?”

Yuri shook his head, keeping a firm grip on his sword even as he started toward the bushes. “Stay here; I’ll go check it out,” he said, disengaging his sleeve and nodding at his dog. “Lead the way.”

Repede barked and was off in a flash. Yuri followed, shoving aside stray branches and clumps of vegetation as he followed the flicking blue line of his dog’s tail through the forest. Just what had gotten Repede so worked up? Was it another dog? Some sort of new monster, perhaps? Or maybe—

His foot abruptly caught on something solid, and Yuri had about half a second for his stomach to leap into his throat before he was on the ground, coughing and spitting out dirt. Repede, who had now come to a halt, turned around and nosed at him, still whining as if in pain. Yuri shook his head, reaching out to run a hand down his dog’s back, trying to calm him.

“What is it, boy? What’s—”

And then Repede moved, allowing Yuri a direct line of vision to the thing he had tripped on. And all the breath left his lungs.

“Oh, god— _Flynn!_ ”

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees next to his friend even as Repede ran agitated circles around them both, whining low in his throat. Flynn Scifo had never looked worse. As Yuri brushed aside dirt and fallen leaves, he could already see that wherever Flynn had come from, they hadn’t been good to him. His clothes were ragged and torn, nothing like the regal blue and white of the Imperial Commandant, and through the holes every patch of bare skin was blotched and bruised. His left eye was swollen dark, lips split and scabbed over, and a dark patch that Yuri knew wasn’t mud plastered his blond hair to his scalp. His face was ashen gray except for two high spots of color on his cheeks, and the entire left sleeve of his shirt had also been torn off, Yuri saw, to make a tourniquet for his leg…oh, god. Flynn’s _leg._

A soft, shaky moan sounded out, and Yuri didn’t even realize it came from him as he saw the damage for the first time. Flynn had tied the tourniquet just above his left knee, the grubby rag already soaked through with blood, and beneath it…beneath it, the rest of Flynn’s leg—his knee, his calf, his foot—looked like some monstrous animal had ripped into it, nothing but a mangled mess of blood, splintered bone, and shredded flesh. There was nothing left. Looking down at the horror, Yuri felt pain lance through his heart, so intense he almost couldn’t bear it.

Whoever had done this to Flynn, they’d wanted him to suffer. They’d wanted him to see it, to _feel_ it, and to carry it for the rest of his life.

Next to him, Repede whimpered again—Yuri understood now why he was so frantic. The dog scooted forward on his paws, almost as if he was afraid to move too much with Flynn so close and fragile, and licked at Flynn’s cheek, pushing his nose into blond hair matted with sweat, dirt and blood.

The knight gave no response, no indication of life. Repede looked up at Yuri and woofed, softly, single eye bright. Yuri swallowed, knowing what he had to do, dreading having to do it with all his heart. Gently pushing Repede aside, he leaned down, pressed his ear to Flynn’s chest, and closed his eyes, hoping, _praying_ to a god he’d never believed in that there was, that there still would be…

And there was. A heartbeat—slow, weak, but there nevertheless, and Yuri felt ice-cold claws loosen their grip somewhat on his own heart. Flynn was alive. He was alive and, more importantly, Yuri had found him before it was too late.

Rustling in the brush preluded approaching footsteps before Karol’s voice spoke up, rapidly coming closer. “Yuri? Is everything okay?”

Yuri straightened up, and when he spoke he barely recognized his own voice, it was so hoarse, so constricted around the tightening in his throat. “No. No, Karol, it’s really not.”

Either his words or his tone—hell, probably both—made Karol cover the distance between them immediately. He ran out from the bushes, axe at the ready—and stopped when he saw Flynn. His eyes widened until they were white all around and he rushed forward. “Wait—oh my _god_ , is that—?”

Something snarled. A flash of blue fur streaked by Yuri, and Karol gave a surprised cry, stumbling back. When Yuri turned around, he saw Karol staring in disbelief at Repede, who had planted himself firmly between the boy and his two masters. The dog’s tail was up, fur along his spine bristling, and when he growled, the message was clear. _Do not take another step._

Still clutching his axe, but doing so almost as an afterthought, as if he no longer knew what to do with it, Karol looked at Yuri, eyes confused and painfully young. “Yuri, what…?”

Repede didn’t budge, another warning growl issuing from his throat. Yuri reached forward and grasped the chain looped about his dog’s neck, taking some comfort in the feel of the cold steel against his palm even as his gaze remained on Flynn’s face. He made no other move to disengage Repede, though, knowing already how the dog’s world worked.

Repede may have befriended Karol and the others, may have seen them as allies, but to him, they would never be family. Repede already had a pack. And when a member of that pack was threatened, everyone else could go fuck themselves.

More rustling in the bushes before Judith emerged from the shrubbery. “Karol?” she said, gaze dancing over the scene before her. “What’s going on…oh.”

She fell silent. Yuri didn’t have to look at her to know that she was watching Flynn, taking in his injuries and the paleness of his skin. Repede growled again. Yuri leaned forward, and with the hand not grasping his dog’s chain, he pressed a shaking hand to Flynn’s cheek, ignoring the stickiness of recently-dried blood on his skin.

Flynn still didn’t respond. Yuri felt the heat of his fever, hot enough to burn, and for the first time saw that Flynn’s entire body was covered in sweat. He bit his lip, looking back down at the mangled remains of Flynn’s leg, and didn’t have to get closer to know. A single brief sniff brought him the sickly, sweet-sour smell of infection.

If they didn’t do something soon, Flynn would die.

Judith took a step forward, and to her credit, barely acknowledged Repede’s rumble of warning. When she spoke, her voice was carefully calm. “Is he alive?” she asked.

Yuri swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered. _But not for long._

Another brief moment of silence. Then Judith spoke with a determined edge to her voice. “I’ll call Ba’ul,” she said.

“But we’re already so close to Dahngrest,” Karol said.

Yuri didn’t answer. Judith sighed. “We aren’t close enough,” she said, before a brief rustle and the sound of clicking heels announced her departure.

More silence, broken only by another low rumble from Repede and the sound of Yuri’s own heartbeat. Finally, Karol said, small, almost timid, “Is…Is there anything I can do?”

Yuri straightened, tearing his eyes away from Flynn to meet Karol’s gaze for perhaps the first time since he’d entered the clearing. The boy looked lost, heartbreakingly so, and any other day Yuri might have scrambled to make him feel better, might have used all his sarcasm and deadpan humor to put a smile back on the face of the boy who, once, had reminded him so much of himself.

But not today. Today, Flynn needed him, and so Yuri merely lifted his free hand. “Toss me your belt,” he said.

Karol did so, and as Yuri set about undoing Flynn’s makeshift tourniquet, he eventually heard shuffling footsteps make their way back into the brush. It was just as well. Yuri couldn’t care about the others right now, his concern for Flynn filling all the gaps in his heart and leaving no room for anyone else. He couldn’t even feel guilty about it, because it had always been this way.

Repede wasn’t the only one with a pack.

As he tightened the belt around Flynn’s thigh, gritting his teeth and forcing down a fresh wave of panic at the new flow of dark, viscous blood triggered by the movement, he looked down at Flynn’s face, ashen and pale and devoid of life, and allowed himself only one, all-consuming thought.

 _I’ll save you,_ he thought to himself, feeling something monstrous and terrifying expand within his chest, wrapping thick tendrils around his very soul. It wasn’t a new feeling, he realized with resignation. _And after that, I’ll find whoever did this—and I’ll make them wish they’d never been born._

 

Only fifteen minutes later, they touched down just outside of Dahngrest. Karol was the first to disembark, feet barely touching the earth before he was bolting for the city, calling for a doctor, a healer, anybody. Judith alit next, coming around to Ba’ul’s massive head to exchange a few whispered words with her old friend.

Neither of them had spoken a word to Yuri the entire trip. Karol had tried at first, but a menacing growl from Repede disengaged him real quick. Yuri himself barely noticed. He’d been too busy clutching Flynn’s still form, watching the shaky rise and fall of his friend’s chest and praying with every shred of his being, every beat of Ba’ul’s vast wings, that it didn’t stop, would never stop.

It hadn’t, and for once, Yuri thanked the stars for Flynn’s stubbornness as he picked his way carefully down Ba’ul’s back toward the ground, trying his best not to jostle Flynn, draped over his shoulder limply like a doll. After replacing the tourniquet, he’d wrapped Flynn’s injured leg as tightly as he dared using one of their blankets soaked with the contents of a Panacea Bottle. Yuri knew it wouldn’t be enough to cure the infection, but it might at least slow its spread. At this point, he’d take anything that would help Flynn’s chances even the tiniest bit.

He tried not to think about how alarmingly light Flynn was now. He knew it had nothing to do with his lack of armor.

Repede barked as soon as Yuri hit solid ground, running circles around his legs and whining as if to encourage him forward faster. _Hurry,_ he seemed to say with each scratch of his paws, each butt of his snout against Yuri’s calf. _Please. Before it’s too late._

“I know, don’t worry,” Yuri said, and didn’t know whether he was trying to convince Repede or himself. “It’s gonna be okay. Karol’s gonna find someone who can fix this.”

Rapid footsteps approached and Yuri looked up, shoulders sagging with relief when he saw a group of Dahngrest citizens running toward them, carrying a stretcher. Karol led at the front, and allowing him to pull her along by the wrist was…

Repede barked and Yuri’s eyes widened. “Estelle?”

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen the pink-haired princess—but his thoughts didn’t proceed beyond that. It didn’t matter that they’d had no contact, that the bond they’d once shared had now faded to rust and smoke. Estelle could save Flynn, and that was all Yuri cared about.

“Yuri!” Estelle cried, pulling away from Karol as she ran forward to them. She gasped as she got a closer look at his load, eyes growing wide and hands flying up to cover her mouth as she saw the state of Flynn’s leg for the first time. “Oh, _Flynn_ …but thank goodness you found him! Quick, bring the stretcher!”

As the others hurried to obey, gently taking Flynn from Yuri and lowering him onto the stretcher, Estelle stepped forward, grasping his hands in her own. Her green eyes shone, bright with unspilled tears. “I knew you’d find him,” she said, squeezing his hands, “I knew, as long as you were the one searching for him, that he’d never be lost.”

Maybe it was the sincerity in her eyes, or maybe it was the immense relief washing over him now that he knew Flynn was in good hands, but whatever it was, Yuri only blinked at her dumbly. “What? But I didn’t—Repede was the one who found him. On the way back from Heliord.”

Estelle blinked. “Heliord? Why were you looking for him there?”

“No, I—it was for a job. We were coming back from a job, and Repede happened to catch his scent.”

Estelle’s grip on his hands abruptly loosened. She took a slow step back, the gratitude in her eyes starting to waver. “Wait, you…” She looked down at Flynn, then back up at Yuri. “So Flynn was…you weren’t searching for him?”

“No,” Yuri said. “Why would I be?”

A long bout of silence followed. Repede whimpered and lay down on his paws. Slowly, in front of Yuri’s eyes, Estelle’s shoulders tensed. Her fists clenched and her eyes hardened, becoming glinting blades of emerald. The air around them suddenly seemed to cool a few degrees, and Yuri swallowed, reaching forward. “Estelle, what—”

“Do _not_ touch me.” She slapped his hand away hard enough to sting. Her shoulders shook, but her voice was firm, pure ice and steel and nothing like the warm lilting tone Yuri knew. Suddenly, he barely recognized her.

Estelle glared at him for another moment, the unbridled fury in her eyes enough to send a chill down Yuri’s spine. Then, abruptly, she turned away from him to address the others. “Bring him to the inn; I’ll tend to him there,” she said.

They could have argued. They _should_ have argued—the guilds never responded well to being ordered around by the Empire, after all. But Estelle’s voice brooked no argument, her tone promising a fate gristlier than hell itself for any who defied her. It was the voice no longer of a healer, of a princess, but of a _ruler_. And for the first time, Yuri could imagine her as the Empire’s new Queen.

“Yes, Your Highness” sounded out among the group as the men hurried to obey, carefully lifting Flynn on the stretcher and carrying him toward the inn near the middle of the town. Estelle went with them, never once looking back. After a moment of darting confused looks between the departing group and Yuri, Karol hurried to follow.

That left only Yuri, standing there just inside Dahngrest’s borders, feeling as if he’d just been hit over the head by a two-by-four but somehow hadn’t noticed. Next to him, Repede rose to his feet and butted his nose against Yuri’s hand, but Yuri didn’t move. Estelle had known Flynn was missing. Why hadn’t she contacted him? She could have come to Dahngrest, could have sent a message with a passing troop of Knights, could have…written a letter…

 _Oh god,_ Yuri thought, looking down at his hands. His fingers trembled, so he clenched them into a fist, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. _What have I done?_

 

By the time Yuri finally mustered enough courage to approach the inn, the sun had already set. The cool wind whipped at his clothes and his hair as he walked toward the building, each step becoming heavier the closer he got. He forced himself to keep going, though. He needed to see Flynn, needed to know he was still alive and breathing. Even if he had to brave Estelle’s wrath to do so.

He’d left Judith and Repede back at Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. Convincing his dog to stay had taken some work, Repede’s need to look after his masters so rooted in instinct that it had finally taken Yuri looping his chain around the bedpost to get him to stop trying to follow him out the door. He knew he’d have to make up for that in the coming days with a pile of dog treats and possibly a steak or two thrown in, but right now, Yuri didn’t deserve to have Repede by his side. If his hunch was correct, he didn’t deserve much of anything at all.

The Imperial Knights, to their credit, seemed to be doing their level best to keep a low profile in the town. It looked like an entire platoon had arrived with Estelle—an escort of the princess required no less—but there were only two Knights posted outside the inn’s front door, and one other standing guard at the bottom of the stairs when Yuri entered. The rest must have set up camp outside the town, trusting the Union to look after their royal charge. It was a good sign of just how far relations between the guilds and the Empire had come in such a short time.

Karol looked up from the table as soon as Yuri walked in. “Oh, Yuri,” he said, straightening out the papers he’d been working on. Yuri didn’t need to look to know they were guild forms: inventories, budgets, job reports, and the like. Karol wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Hey, boss. Any news on Flynn?”

“Ah, Estelle had him taken up to one of the rooms, and she hasn’t been down since,” Karol answered. He very carefully averted his eyes from Yuri’s gaze. “She, uh…she seemed pretty angry.”

“Yeah.” Yuri sighed. “She should be.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Karol coughed, forcing some cheer into his voice. “Well, y’know, she’s probably just mad Flynn got hurt, right? I mean, Estelle’s always cared so much about her friends. And it’s not like…you know. Like you could have done anything about it.”

The last part went soft and tilted upward almost like a question, and Yuri swallowed, looking away. “Yeah. I guess so.”

More silence. When at last Karol spoke, his voice had gone soft and timid again as he fiddled with the paper in his hands. “Yuri, I…did you…?”

“No,” Yuri answered immediately, still not looking at him. “I didn’t know about Flynn. Don’t…Don’t think that of me, Karol.”

“Okay.” Karol nodded, but still looked uncomfortable. “It’s just, you know. What Estelle said. But she was just lashing out, right? I mean, there’s no way you could’ve known Flynn was missing.”

Fresh pain burst forth in Yuri’s chest at the words, and he had to bite back an urge to slam his fist into the nearest wall. This wasn’t Karol’s fault, he told himself, even as every cell in his body lit up in frustrated rage. Karol didn’t know.

“I…I’m gonna go see Flynn,” he said, and hurried forward.

The guard at the stairs let him pass with barely a glance. That gave Yuri a little hope, at least; it meant Estelle hadn’t requested he be barred from seeing Flynn completely. Yuri held on to that thought, using it to will himself forward down the hall toward the last room.

He noticed the warmth, familiar and soothing, even before he opened the door. Estelle didn’t turn at the sound, choosing instead to remain in her seat by the bed. The glowing yellow glyph of her healing arte covered the entire expanse of the floor, particles of concentrated aer floating all around them like fireflies. On any other day, Yuri might have thought it beautiful.

Today, he only stepped forward, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. It did no good, though, because Estelle spoke as soon as the latch clicked into place. “You’d better have a good reason for being here.”

Yuri let out a breath and stepped forward. “He’s my friend too.”

Estelle didn’t reply. But she made no move to stop him either, as he approached the bed. What he saw there made it hard to breathe.

Flynn looked dead. Though his head wound had been bandaged, there was still no mistaking the paleness of his skin, gray and translucent so that Yuri almost thought he could see the veins beneath. Someone had removed his rags, so that now there was no hiding the way almost his entire upper body was broken, dark bruises peeking between the bandages, slow red seeping into the white cloth. Two of his fingers were splinted, while a couple others were bandaged at the tips—to cover the ragged patches of flesh, Yuri knew, where his fingernails had been ripped off.

Yuri could see nothing of Flynn’s leg. Estelle seemed to be concentrating her healing arte specifically on it, because everything from Flynn’s knee down was currently nothing but a bright, amorphous glow. Yuri couldn’t help but frown. In all the years he’d traveled with Estelle, all the times he’d seen her heal others with her power, he’d never seen anything like this. Was it just the extent of Flynn’s injury, Estelle needing to concentrate more magic than usual in order to mend the wounds, or—

Estelle’s next words answered everything for him. “It’s gone,” she said.

Yuri’s entire world ground to a halt. For an instant, he couldn’t even process what she’d said, the words bouncing around in the confines of his skull, hollow and unreal. Gone? But she couldn’t mean…

“It was the only way to save him,” Estelle continued. Her voice was cool and deceptively calm. “He’ll survive now. But he will never be the same.”

Tears sprang to Yuri’s eyes. In the back of his mind, ever since he’d first stumbled upon Flynn and the ragged remnants of his leg, he’d suspected: a sinister voice whispering in the back of his mind that the wound was too great, the infection too strong…but still, to hear it actually confirmed, and to think of Flynn now, sick and broken and not even _whole_ …

“Your power.” The words came out tiny and soft, so much so that Yuri could hardly recognize his own voice. “You can’t help that?”

“It’s already done.” Estelle’s words trembled on a breath. “Now I can only…make it as presentable as possible.”

 _As presentable as possible._ She meant healing the…the stump. Yuri’s throat constricted so that he could get no words out. But if Flynn was like this, how would he be able to even _walk?_ And his duties as Commandant…how would he…

Estelle straightened her skirts and made a low noise in her throat. “We need to talk.”

Yuri latched onto the change in topic with the desperation of a drowning man who had been thrown a rope. Anything to distract him from Flynn’s predicament. Anything to push away those thoughts of his friend, once so beautiful and strong, now reduced to nothing but a mere shell of his being.

Yuri cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

“Not here, though.” Estelle rose from her chair. The glyph on the floor never wavered. “I don’t want Flynn to hear this.”

Worry broke through the dread gathering in Yuri’s heart. “Can you leave him like this?”

“The arte will continue even without me in close proximity,” Estelle answered. “My room is just down the hall.”

She brushed past him without another word and exited. With a sigh and a heavy heart, Yuri followed.

As promised, Estelle hadn’t taken ten steps before she turned to another door, pushing it open and walking inside. Yuri tailed her obediently, pausing just long enough to close the door behind him before turning around and opening his mouth to speak—

The world suddenly snapped sideways, a sharp, stinging pain flaring up in his left cheek. For a moment Yuri couldn’t even comprehend it, frozen in place by shock. Had Estelle just…

“You selfish _bastard!_ ” The sudden screech snapped him back to reality, and Yuri barely brought his arm up in time to deflect the blow as Estelle shoved him with surprising strength, sending him stumbling into the dresser. “What is _wrong_ with you? You used to be a decent human being!”

“Estelle—”

“It’s _Estellise,_ you pathetic piece of garbage! I can’t _believe_ you! I thought Flynn was your _friend!_ ”

“He _is_ , listen to me—”

“No, _you_ listen.” Estelle’s voice dripped pure venom, and Yuri swallowed, watching as she stepped away from him, fists clenched so tightly that he knew her nails would be digging marks into her skin. “Flynn disappeared a month ago, Yuri. A _month_. I’ve been writing letters to you every day, asking you, _begging_ you to find him—I even hired the Couriers’ Guild to rush you my messages, and for what? So you can just _ignore_ your best friend when he needs you the most, so you can let him suffer for _weeks_ just because he decided to be _honest_ with you for once in Aurnion—”

“Wait.” –whispered words, a hesitant touch, the briefest press of warm lips against his own— “You know about that?”

“ _Yes,_ Yuri!” Estelle snapped. “And you know what? You’re shameful. Maybe I could have forgiven you for breaking his heart. But I never thought you’d stoop so low as to abandon him completely.” She paused, and for the first time, the faintest hint of a tremor entered her voice. “I thought…I thought he meant more to you than that, Yuri.”

Yuri stared at her, unable to form words. Estelle knew about that night in Aurnion, three years ago. She knew what had happened, what Yuri had done, and now she thought he’d turned away. Estelle thought Yuri hated Flynn.

Oh, god. What if Flynn thought that too?

He swallowed, stepping forward. “Estelle—”

“Estellise.”

“Um, Estellise.” The formal name rolled strange and awkward off his tongue. “Listen, it’s not what you think.”

She glared at him, eyes hardening again. “Which part?”

Yuri sighed. “Look, it wasn’t…okay, what happened in Aurnion, yes, that was my fault. And yeah, just now, that’s my fault too. But I don’t…it’s not…I haven’t _abandoned_ him, Estelle. He’s my _friend._ And if I’d known he was missing, I would’ve torn the entire world apart looking for him. You know that. _You know that._ ”

His voice trembled despite his best efforts. That, perhaps, was what made Estelle refrain from another caustic remark, instead taking a breath and saying, with barely restrained anger, “And my letters? I wrote you _every day_ , Yuri. Sometimes more than that. So why don’t you explain what—”

“I never got them.”

A pause. When Estelle spoke next, her voice could only be described as careful. “What?”

“ I didn’t receive your letters, Estelle,” Yuri said, looking down at the floor. All of a sudden, he just felt so very tired. “I have things set up at the post office here. Any mail I receive that’s postmarked from Zaphias instantly gets rejected.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Yuri didn’t respond, shame sitting heavy in his gut. After a moment, Estelle stiffened as the realization dawned on her. “Oh, you…” Her voice shook, became tense and taut as tears gathered in her eyes. “Yuri. You _coward._ ”

“Estelle—”

“Lady Estellise?”

They both turned to see the Knight from downstairs peering in through the door, face worried beneath the metal of his raised helmet. “I heard yelling,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

Estelle straightened up and took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was calmer, royal confidence falling over her as neatly as any shield. “No, Lieutenant. Everything’s fine. I was just on my way back to Flynn’s room.” She stepped toward the door, the lieutenant quickly moving to make way, but paused at the threshold.

She spoke without turning around. “Mr. Lowell, unfortunately, won’t be joining us due to his _tragically_ busy schedule.” And without another word, she left.

Yuri was left alone in the room with only the lieutenant for company, who watched Estelle as she made her way down the hallway. After ensuring she had indeed made it back to Flynn’s room without incident, the man turned back to Yuri and tilted his head. To his credit, he seemed to realize the awkwardness of their situation as he rubbed the back of his neck and said, “So, I apologize for this, but…Her Highness made things pretty clear. I can offer you the easy way out, or I can have you escorted off the premises.”

Yuri let out a breath. “I’ll show myself out.”

The lieutenant followed him down the stairs and up to the front door of the inn. Yuri didn’t even have it in him to be annoyed. Karol looked up as they crossed the lobby and seemed about to say something, but thought better of it and turned back to his paperwork instead. Yuri counted his blessings.

The night seemed to have grown even colder when he stepped out, although Yuri thought that might have all been in his head. Dahngrest was quieting after another long day, people starting to retreat into homes and headquarters for meals and rest. Yuri didn’t think he’d be getting much of either over the next few days.

“How ya holdin’ up, kid?”

Yuri jumped and spun around, hand already halfway to his sword before he realized who had just stepped out from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. “Raven?”

“The one and only.” Raven paused to smooth out invisible wrinkles in his tunic before offering Yuri a smile. “I heard about Flynn. Thought I’d come see how he’s doin’.” _And how_ you’re _doing_ went unsaid.

Yuri forced nonchalance into his shrug. “He’s a little banged up, but okay,” he said. “Estelle’s working on him now, and has asked not to be interrupted. You know how she gets when she’s healing somebody.”

The steady look Raven gave him at that told Yuri he couldn’t fool the older man. To his credit, though, Raven didn’t say it out loud, instead opting for a shrug of his own. “Okay then. Guess I’ll try again tomorrow. See ya.”

“Wait.”

Raven paused half-turn, and Yuri sighed. Guilt clogged his throat, making it difficult to speak. “You remember that favor I asked you? To use your in with the post office to filter my mail?”

Something in Raven’s eyes told Yuri he already knew where this was going, but the continued lightness of his voice betrayed no such insight. “Sure I do.”

“I…I’d like that removed.”

A long silence followed, during which Raven regarded Yuri with a calm look that somehow still managed to make Yuri feel as if the older man were peering into the very depths of his soul. At last, Raven straightened, reaching up a hand to tug lightly at a few strands of hair that had escaped his customary ponytail. “Come with me for a sec. I got somethin’ for ya.”

Yuri blinked, but Raven just continued to watch him expectantly, so finally he shrugged. “Okay.”

“Great.” And without another word, Raven turned and walked off. Yuri followed, and it didn’t take him long to realize they were headed for the post office. That was odd. Did Raven need him present to sign something? He didn’t remember having to do anything like that the first time around…

A light was on in the building, despite it being past closing hours. Raven walked up to a side door and produced a key smoothly out from the folds of his tunic. A little fiddling, a little rattling, and the knob eventually turned. Yuri followed him in.

Dahngrest’s post office was usually very lively; it had to be, with every guild in the city using it as a waypoint not just for personal correspondence but for official business as well. Tonight, though, only one person sat behind the desk: an older man, spectacles half-falling down his face as he sorted through a pile of sealed envelopes.

Raven raised a hand. “Hey, Rupher. Workin’ late again?”

The man looked up and his face immediately broke into a grin, crow’s feet crinkling away out the corners of his eyes. “Raven! Been a long time. And who’s that with you?”

“Ah, this is Yuri Lowell. He’s with Brave Vesperia.”

“Lowell? Hm.” Rupher pushed his spectacles up on his nose, peering at Yuri intently as if he were a puzzle Rupher was trying to put together. “Lowell…where have I…oh! The Zaphias request, wasn’t it?”

“Got it in one.” Raven grinned. “Actually, that’s why we’re here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Raven took a moment to crack his neck, which Yuri had long ago learned was actually a subtle ploy to buy himself some time to plan what to say next. “Say, ya wouldn’t happen to have followed through on our…agreement, would ya?”

Yuri blinked. Agreement?

Rupher laughed. “Of course! Anything for an old friend.” He hopped off his chair with surprising agility considering his age, pausing to wipe dust off his pants. “You two wait here. I’ll go get it from the back room.”

Raven waited until after Rupher had left before lacing his fingers behind his head and glancing sideways at Yuri. “So, regardin’ the favor ya asked me…”

“Yeah?”

“I might not’ve implemented it exactly as ya wanted it.”

Yuri blinked again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

“Old man, what—”

“And here we are!” Rupher reentered the room, carrying a small cloth bag roughly the size of a travel pack. When he set it down on the table, the top of the sack opened a bit, revealing its contents.

Yuri froze, staring at the pile of neatly-sealed envelopes. All bore the Zaphian postmark, and somehow, he didn’t have to look closer to know they were all addressed to him.

Next to him, Raven cleared his throat. “Honestly, I never thought I’d end up actually givin’ em to ya,” he said, voice soft. “But I figured a little insurance couldn’t hurt.”

“Now there was a bit of a hiccup recently,” Rupher admitted, patting the bag. “For some reason, we got a whole flood of letters for you from the capital in the last month or so. I tried to save them, but near the end there the sorters were getting kind of annoyed, so I think they threw a lot of them out. Probably only a few made it through.”

Yuri nodded, reaching out to take the bag. He turned to Raven. “But…why?”

At that, the older man shrugged. To anyone else, it might have been nonchalant, but the seriousness of his next words betrayed him. “This old man’s done a lotta things in his life worth regrettin’,” he said. “I just didn’t want ya makin’ the same mistake.”

Yuri didn’t know what to say. Rupher gave them both a soft look over his glasses before returning to his work. At last, Raven stretched and hauled himself up onto the desk, ignoring the vaguely disapproving look Rupher sent his way. “Anyway, it’s late. Time for kids to go to bed.”

“I’m _twenty-five_ , Raven.”

“All the same.” Raven grinned, giving him a dismissive wave. “See ya.”

Yuri recognized the out for what it was. Tightening his hold on the bag, he turned and headed toward the exit, Raven and Rupher’s friendly conversation following him out the door.

 

Judith had probably gone to one of the taverns to get dinner because Brave Vesperia’s headquarters was empty when Yuri got there. It was just as well, he thought as he made his way upstairs to his small room, holding the bag tightly. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with her soft smiles and her all-too-knowing looks just yet.

Repede was right where he’d left him, curled up at the foot of Yuri’s bed. His ears perked up and he lifted his head upon Yuri’s entrance, but otherwise he made no sound, single eye tracking Yuri’s every movement as he approached the bed, knelt down, and unwound the chain. “Sorry, boy,” Yuri said. “I had to do this on my own. You understand, right?”

Repede got to his feet, pausing for a moment to shake out his coat. Yuri prepared himself for a hard nip to the heels or some other angry display, but instead Repede just cocked his head, nosing at the bag in Yuri’s hand. He looked up and woofed.

Yuri nodded, trying to smile. “Yeah, the old man can still surprise me even after all these years,” he said, before sighing and heading toward the small table, dropping the bag onto it and sinking into the hard wooden chair. “Why don’t you go get some fresh air? I’ve got some catching up to do.”

Repede woofed again, softly, and instead of going out the door, he walked up, lay down, and curled up at the base of Yuri’s chair, head resting on his booted foot. Yuri felt something dangerously close to tears sting at his eyes as he reached down to run a hand over the smooth fur of his dog’s back. “Thank you, Repede.”

Lifting the bag, he shook out its contents onto the table. Several stacks of envelopes tumbled out, held together by knotted twine, and in between them a few other single letters. It didn’t take Yuri long to figure out that the stacks were grouped by sender, and only two were thick enough to indicate regular writing. The bulkier of the pair was from Estelle. The other was from Flynn.

Setting the two stacks aside with shaking fingers, Yuri sifted through the other letters first, already knowing he was just looking to stall. A couple of them were from Rita, but he brushed them aside—she visited pretty regularly, if only so that she could employ the Union’s resources in her research as well as find whatever excuse possible to abuse Karol. One letter was from Hatchett, but though a quick read-through made Yuri smile a little, it didn’t offer much of interest.

There was also one from Hanks. It was dated from about a year ago, the envelope bent at the edges and obviously reused. Yuri opened it and pulled out the single folded sheet of paper.

 

_Yuri,_

_How in the world have you been? And how are things with your guild? Super Vesperia, right? I bet you’re causing trouble as usual even over in Dahngrest. Try not to get yourself killed, okay? This old man’s blood pressure is shaky enough as it is._

_We’ve missed you here in the Lower Quarter. Did you know the other day that Ted was talking about joining up with the Knights? I thought you’d get a kick out of that. The kid’s almost as much of a handful as you—I tremble to think of him terrorizing the ranks! Though I guess with Flynn as the Commandant, he wouldn’t get too out of hand. He’s always been good at keeping an eye on Ted._

_Speaking of Flynn, he came by here the other day. Said he was just checking up on how things were going. We spoke for a bit, and I gotta say I’m a little worried about him. He didn’t look too good, and when I asked if he’d heard from you he clammed up tighter than window shutters in winter. Did you two have a falling out or something? If you did, why don’t you come back and beat some sense into each other? That’s usually how it works with you two, right?_

_Seriously, though, Yuri. It wouldn’t kill you to come visit us sometime, would it? Don’t make me come over there and drag you by that ridiculous hair of yours all the way back here._

 

Yuri snorted out a laugh at that, though he didn’t feel very humorous. If Flynn had been doing so badly only a year ago, and even Hanks had noticed…

From somewhere in the vicinity of his right foot, Repede huffed, nosing at his boot as if to say, _Stop putting it off_. Yuri sighed, set Hanks’s letter aside, and reached for the stack of letters from Estelle.

The collection of envelopes was so thick that it was barely contained by the twine. There had to be at least fifty letters in there, arranged chronologically. The earlier ones, dated only a few months after their parting three years ago, were typical Estelle:

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_How are things in Dahngrest? I heard yesterday that Brave Vesperia got hired to clear Egethor Forest of a Giganto monster. Is everyone all right? Do you need me to heal anybody?_

 

And later:

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I stopped in Dahngrest on my way to Heliord hoping to see all of you, but unfortunately it looks like you were out on a job. I wish I was still able to travel with you. Maybe someday we can all take a vacation together. Oh, I’ll see if I can’t get us passes to Yumanju! But do you think I’m allowed to take gald out from the Imperial treasury for personal reasons? Hm. I’ll ask Flynn about it. He should know._

 

Yuri shook his head, paging through the letters. The next one he unfolded was dated approximately a year and a half ago.

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I’m worried about Flynn. I don’t think he’s getting enough sleep because he looks tired out all the time. I offered to heal him but he says he’s just got a lot of work to do. I’m going to see whether I can get the Council to lighten up his workload._

_I haven’t gotten any letters back from you, by the way. Maybe you’re just really busy? I know running a guild can be hard work, even with Karol, Judith and Repede by your side. But keep at it! And please come visit us sometime. I feel like it would do Flynn good to spend some time with you._

 

And then the next one, dated a few months later:

 

_Yuri,_

_Flynn told me about Aurnion. There must be a misunderstanding of some kind. Please, can you just come to Zaphias to talk to him? He’s not doing well, and I’m really worried._

 

And the next one:

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I’ve asked the Council to send Flynn to Dahngrest on a diplomatic assignment. I won’t be accompanying him, but I hope he finds you there. Please, don’t let your bond break apart because of this. I’ve seen the two of you together. I think you could work things out if only you tried._

_I just want you both to be happy._

 

Throat constricting, Yuri set the letter aside and ran a hand through his hair. _I just want you both to be happy._ But that was exactly what had driven Yuri to do what he did, that night in Aurnion three years ago. He’d just wanted Flynn to be unshackled, to remain free to make the changes in the world they had promised each other as children. He, too, only wanted Flynn to be happy.

_And now he’s permanently crippled, barely clinging to life, and also probably thinks you’re disgusted by him. How happy does he seem now?_

Forcing aside those thoughts, Yuri sifted through the rest of the letters, looking for ones written more recently. The ones from the past few weeks were spotty and intermittent: several in a row at one point, followed by long dry spells in between. That was probably what Rupher had been referring to when he mentioned the sorters. Yuri picked out the one that was dated the closest to a month ago, unfolded it, and began to read.

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I don’t know what you’ve been doing with all my other letters, but please, I beg you, please read this._

_Things have gotten very bad here. A week ago, someone attempted to assassinate Ioder. He’s okay—the Knights who were with him did their job well—but the assassins managed to escape the city before anyone could catch them. The Council went into an uproar, of course, and the Knights were mobilized. Flynn informed me that their intelligence unit obtained information that a group of dissidents connected to the remnants of Alexei’s loyalists might be behind this. They’ve been clamoring for the fall of the Empire for months now, although this is the first time they’ve really tried anything. And if they had succeeded and killed Ioder…_

_But Yuri, please listen. Yesterday, the Knights received a tip about a group of these dissidents meeting somewhere in Tolbyccia, near the Manor of the Wicked. Flynn took two squads of Knights with him to investigate. I don’t know all the details, but apparently they were ambushed there. It was terrible, Yuri. Most of the men were slaughtered, and of those who made it back…I could only save a few. But these survivors, they’re all saying the same thing. They say that Flynn disappeared in the middle of the fighting._

_No one really knows what to make of this yet, and the Council isn’t acting quickly enough on my requests for search parties to be dispatched. Yuri, I need your help. Everyone is trying to keep what’s transpired under tight wraps, so we can’t appeal to the Union directly. But Dahngrest is close to the place where Flynn disappeared, and I’m afraid the enemy has him. Please, wherever you are, drop what you’re doing and go look for him. If anyone can find him, you can._

 

Yuri’s fist clenched unwittingly at his side. _Alexei._ The very name made rage bubble in his veins. Even after death, that sorry excuse for a human being was still trying to ruin people’s lives. And now Flynn…

Repede lifted his head, whining softly. Yuri pressed a hand to his temple, trying to clear his mind of murderous thoughts. Flynn was here now. Alexei’s men couldn’t get to him anymore.

The next letter he found was dated a few days later. The writing was shaky, jagged with emotion, nothing like Estelle’s usually meticulous script.

 

_Yuri,_

_The Council has declared Flynn a defector. They’re twisting the story told by the surviving Knights and making it sound like Flynn was the one who led the squads into the ambush. They’re calling him a traitor to the Empire!_

_You haven’t replied to my letters, so I know you must be out searching for him. Please find him soon! The Council is still refusing to send out search parties from Zaphias, and they’re heading me off whenever I try to get the word out to the Knights operating in other areas. I can’t even reach Sodia because she’s deployed to Desier and my messages to her aren’t getting past the censors._

_I’m trying to arrange passage to Dahngrest to help you with your search, but after what happened with Ioder we’ve all been put under constant guard. I can barely even set foot outside my own room. I’ll keep trying though, Yuri. I’m going to put in as much effort into helping as I know you’re putting into finding Flynn._

 

And just like that, the rage returned. Part of it was directed at the Council; Yuri had always known those stuck-up, pompous assholes didn’t like Flynn, didn’t like a so-called commoner rising so swiftly in the ranks. They’d been out for his blood even before he’d made Captain, much less Commandant, so of course they’d jumped on the opportunity to get rid of him. Yuri gritted his teeth, thinking of them sitting in their plush armchairs, drinking wine and laughing while Flynn suffered weeks of torture, abandoned and alone. He should kill them. They were as responsible for Flynn’s torment as the people who’d kept him captive.

But a good part of Yuri’s anger was also directed at himself. After all, had he been any different from those Council members? While Flynn was being beaten and tortured to the depths of his soul, Yuri had been going on jobs, running around and having fun and thinking spoiled teenaged aristocrats were all he had to deal with. Yuri was no better than the Council, because like them, he’d turned his back on Flynn when his friend had needed him the most.

Estelle was right. Yuri had abandoned him.

The next few letters were mostly the same. Estelle provided some updates on the situation—the Council had swiftly called off all ongoing searches for Flynn, and had promptly appointed a new acting Commandant, someone named Adifer. She also continued with her pleas for help, as she had been basically placed under house arrest in the castle. And, through it all, she kept a hopeful tone, a tone of faith and unshakeable belief.

_Keep looking for him, Yuri. You’ll find him. I know you will._

The final letter from Estelle was dated five days back, short and to the point.

 

_Dear Yuri,_

_I’ve finally obtained permission to go to Dahngrest. We’ll be there within the week._

_I still haven’t heard anything back from you about Flynn. That means you found him, right? Please let him know I’m coming. I’ll heal whatever injuries he has left._

 

Yuri sighed. So that’s why Estelle had shown up in Dahngrest so suddenly; she must have just gotten there when they returned as well. And that was also why she’d gotten so angry when she found out Yuri didn’t even know Flynn was missing.

Yuri understood. Had he been in Estelle’s place, he’d have given himself more than just a slap.

There was only one stack of letters left. Yuri swallowed against the lump in his throat as he picked it up and slowly undid the twine. Briefly he entertained the thought of just putting it off until tomorrow, but just as quickly he knew he couldn’t. Flynn was lying in a room just down the street, hovering between life and death because of Yuri’s mistakes. Yuri owed it to him to do this.

The entire stack only consisted of six or seven letters, each spaced a few months apart. Yuri picked up the first one, dated just two months after Aurnion, and, taking a breath, began to read.

 

_Yuri,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. How are things in Dahngrest? I’m glad the Empire and the guilds are on good standing again. I hope this means we can continue to see each other._

_Things have been going well here. I’m looking into some serious reform within the ranks of the Imperial Knights—Sodia gave me an idea of starting training facilities in cities other than Zaphias so that new recruits will mingle with the people more. I’m almost certain I can convince the Council to loosen the Empire’s purses for such a pursuit. I’m going to change things here, Yuri. After everything you did with Duke and the Adephagos, it’s the least I can do to make my own contributions. It seems I’m the one scrambling to catch up to you this time._

_I can’t help but notice that you haven’t returned to Zaphias recently. I feel this might be related to what I did in Aurnion, and I’m sorry. I understand now that I overstepped our boundaries. I hope one day you’ll forgive me, and that you’ll still allow me to be your friend._

 

Yuri slid the letter aside and shook his head. The _idiot_. Apologizing as if the incident in Aurnion had been entirely his fault. Had he forgotten that Yuri had been there, too? That Yuri was the one who walked away?

With shaking hands, too agitated to think on it too much, he snatched another letter at random from the pile and unfolded it. This one was from a year and a half ago, written at approximately the same time as Estelle’s letter first expressing concerns about Flynn.

 

_Yuri,_

_It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I hope things are continuing to go well with Brave Vesperia. I hear you’re really making a name for yourselves among the guilds, even though you’re still relatively new. But I really couldn’t expect any less._

_I’ve been doing okay here, although Lady Estellise has been telling me I’m working too much. There’s nothing to be done about it, though. Ever since I promoted Sodia to Captain and deployed her with her own brigade, it’s gotten harder to manage everything on my own. I know, I know, you’re probably laughing at me right now. The great Flynn Scifo, done in by too much paperwork, right?_

_I haven’t heard anything from you in a long time, Yuri. I feel like we still left a lot of things unresolved, and I’d like to talk to you about it. I’m not looking for a reversal of your decision in Aurnion. You don’t see me that way and I respect that. But I would like to get some closure on this if possible. I can’t help but feel right now as if you’re no longer interested in even remaining friends._

_That’s not true, is it?_

 

“No.” It was out of Yuri’s mouth before he was even fully aware of it. At his feet, Repede looked up, single eye giving a curious blink. Yuri dropped the letter and bowed his head, leaning against the steeple of his fingers. How could Flynn even _think_ that? After everything they’d been through, first as children and then as adults? They were practically two halves of the same person. Did Flynn really think Yuri would throw all that away just because of a simple—

But he had, hadn’t he? At least, that’s what Flynn must have seen: no replies to his letters, no visits to the city, not even a message from a passing guild letting Flynn know he was still alive. Dear gods, what if Flynn really believed he’d ruined their friendship?

What if, all that time he was being tortured by Alexei’s men, Flynn had thought Yuri felt nothing for him?

The last letter was dated six months ago, and only consisted of three lines.

 

_Yuri,_

_I’ve made you hate me. I’m sorry._

_I won’t contact you again._

 

The pain bubbled up and finally spilled over. From the floor, Repede’s head snapped up and he leaped to his feet. Whining, he put his paws up on Yuri’s lap, nosing frantically at his master’s face and licking at the salty tears that were finally falling. Yuri for his part just wrapped his arms around Repede, burying his face in the dog’s coarse blue fur as his entire body shook with pain, grief and guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, choked, knowing the words were three years too late. “Flynn, god, I…I am so fucking sorry.”

And though he didn’t understand the words, Repede still whimpered, sharing in Yuri’s anguish. Tightening his hold around the dog, Yuri ducked his head and let his sorrow flow. Together, they cried over the loss of their pack.

 

A cold, wet nose pushing against his cheek pulled Yuri out of a feverish, unnamed nightmare some time later. Groaning, he gently nudged Repede aside, scrubbing at the gunk in his eyes, most of which was probably from the tears he’d shed earlier. Propping himself up on one elbow, he turned to squint out the window. The first pale, pink rays of dawn were just beginning to seep through the clear glass.

Next to him, Repede whined softly, pushing at Yuri again and licking his chin. Yuri patted him absently, spirits growing heavy again the instant he spotted the pile of letters still sitting on the table. After he’d finally worn himself out the previous night, he’d dragged his tired body straight to bed, not attempting an even token protest when Repede crawled up onto the bedcovers and settled down next to him. It was only his grip around the dog’s leather collar the entire night that had kept the worst of the nightmares at bay.

Before he could think any further about that, though, clomping footsteps came up the stairs. A moment later, someone knocked tentatively on the door. “Yuri?”

It was Karol. Yuri groaned again, scrubbing at his face as he rose from the bed, dislodging Repede in the process. The dog didn’t seem to mind, shaking himself out a little before walking over to the cloth bag discarded on the floor. He picked it up in his jaws and ferried it over to Yuri expectantly. Yuri took the bag from him with a grateful scratch behind the ears. “Thanks, pal.”

Another knock. “Yuri, are you awake?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” One grand sweep of his arm sent all the letters sliding back into the sack, and Yuri tied it tight before tossing it carelessly into a corner. His friends knew not to snoop around in his room, and even if they did see it, they’d probably just think it was his dirty laundry or something.

Repede barked softly, walked over to the foot of the bed, and sat, regal as always. Sighing and squaring his shoulders, Yuri crossed the room and opened the door.

Karol looked like he’d just rolled out of bed himself, clothes rumpled and hair an utter disaster. His eyes, however, were fully awake as he said, “Estelle is returning to Zaphias. She wanted to talk to you before they left.”

A mix of emotions went through Yuri at that. Chief among them was an overwhelming sense of relief: if Estelle was willing to leave, that must mean Flynn was now out of danger. But there was also a flash of panic: was she taking Flynn with her? In his fragile state, what would they do if he worsened during the trip?

And then there was also the dread, because Estelle wanted to talk to him. And after their exchange yesterday, Yuri knew it would probably be one of the hardest conversations of his life.

Karol must have taken Yuri’s lack of an immediate reply as an intent to refuse, because he shifted from one foot to the other, scratching his head nervously. “Look, Yuri…I don’t know what went on between the two of you yesterday, but if it’s about Flynn, I think you should hear her out.”

“No, I know.” Yuri sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

Karol nodded and left. Yuri turned to Repede. They watched each other for a moment before the dog finally gave a great yawn that showed off all his sharp teeth. Yuri shook his head. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. He paused just long enough to change out of his sleep-rumpled clothes and exited the room.

The Knights were already gathered at the bridge on the outskirts of Dahngrest. Yuri immediately spotted the flash of pink among them, sticking out like a bee among ants, but as he got closer he also saw that Flynn wasn’t with them. Had they sent him on already with an advance troop? What if they were attacked? What if—

The lieutenant from the inn the night before spotted him first. “Ah, Your Highness, he’s here.”

Estelle turned at that, and Yuri quickly put all his effort into quelling the worry that sprang up when he saw her face. She looked worn out, exactly the way Yuri had seen her whenever she overstretched her healing abilities. There was a tension around her eyes that usually wasn’t present, and her skin was paler than usual. However, her steps and her movements were firm as she walked up to meet him. “Yuri,” she said. There was no anger in her voice. Yuri allowed that to provide him some comfort.

“Estelle.”

Silence as they watched each other for a moment. Behind them, the soft clink of metal and the rustle of cloth sounded out as the Knights shifted nervously, not quite sure what to do with the situation. At last, though, Estelle took a breath and sighed.

“I’d like to speak with you in private. Please come with me.”

She turned without another word and started walking toward one of the nearby alleyways, sandwiched between the inn and one of the taverns. Yuri tailed her without complaint, and wondered as he walked when their roles had reversed, when Estelle had become the leader and he the follower.

She didn’t stop until they were near the back of the alley, away from prying eyes and curious ears. When she turned around, though, her expression was serious. Yuri braced himself.

“I ran into Raven this morning.”

Oh. That was…unexpected. “Okay…?”

In front of him, Estelle sighed. “He told me about your arrangement with the post office here, and also about his…gift to you yesterday. So you probably know that, against my better judgment, I won’t be taking Flynn back to Zaphias. With the way things are going there, I’m not sure what would happen if I did.”

“So you’re leaving him in Dahngrest?” Yuri tried not to let the relief show on his face. If Flynn stayed here…even if Yuri was barred from seeing him, maybe he could still sneak into his room at night, could protect him to the best of his ability…

“Yes. And I am entrusting him to you.”

That got Yuri to blink at her in surprise. “What? But I thought…”

He wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Estelle didn’t seem to mind, expression calmly determined. “Don’t get me wrong: I’d much rather watch over him myself, but unfortunately Zaphias grows more nervous the longer I’m away from the city. And our treaty with the Union is strong. I’m sure, despite Flynn’s—station…” Here she stumbled a bit over her words. “…he will still receive proper care here.”

Yuri understood that. If the situation was really as bad as Estelle’s letters had described, he was actually surprised she’d obtained permission to come here in the first place at all. But that still didn’t explain why…

“As for your involvement,” Estelle continued, and sighed. “I just…call it naïve if you want, or superficial, or blind. But I still think that, despite everything, you are the only person in this world that I trust to keep Flynn safe.”

A fresh lump formed in Yuri’s throat at the words, and he cursed himself inwardly. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t remember being on an emotional roller coaster this crazy since the time Repede lost his eye as a puppy. “Th…Thanks, Estelle.”

Estelle watched him quietly for another moment. At long last, though, she let out a breath and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. “Yuri, I need to apologize for yesterday,” she said, softly. “I was hurt and angry, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

“No.” Yuri shook his head, stepping forward. “You were only telling the truth.”

“Not about you.” Estelle sighed. “I’ve known you for almost five years now, Yuri. And if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that you’re more loyal than you’d ever be willing to admit. And I know you would never abandon Flynn, no matter how angry you were at him.”

Yuri couldn’t deny that it felt good to hear those words, especially coming from her. But he had to push aside the light feeling, focusing instead on the key part of what she had said. “No, Estelle, you’ve got it wrong. I’m not angry at Flynn. I never was.”

Estelle blinked at that, looking up at him. “But then…I mean, at Aurnion…and then after, when you rejected his letters and never came to Zaphias…”

“I know what it must have looked like,” Yuri said. “But I wasn’t…it’s hard to explain, Estelle. But please, believe me when I say it wasn’t like that. I swear it.”

Another brief silence. Then: “But you will, won’t you?”

Yuri blinked. “I’ll what?”

“Explain.” Estelle looked down at her hands. “Maybe not to me, but to Flynn. Whatever’s happened, whatever it is that’s been driving your actions…Yuri, he deserves to know.”

Yuri swallowed, looked away. “Yeah. I know.”

“So you’ll talk to him?”

And though every fiber of his being rebelled against it, Yuri nodded. “Yes.”

He was still not looking at Estelle, instead opting to fix his gaze on the brickwork of the wall next to them, and so he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt slim arms wrap around his neck, turning just in time for Estelle to press her thin frame up against his. His arms came up almost instinctively to return the embrace. She felt so very small. “Estelle…?”

Estelle sighed somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. It was a tiny sound, shaky with emotion. “I love you both,” she whispered then. “So much. You know that, right?”

For the first time since he’d found Flynn, broken and bleeding in the forest, Yuri felt warmth seep through his veins. He breathed out, tightening his grip on Estelle. “Yeah. I know.”

They held each other for a moment longer. When at last Estelle drew back, her eyes were distinctly wet, shining with nothing but tenderness and affection, and Yuri had to look away to keep from doing something stupid like sobbing on her shoulder. Not for the first time, he wished he had fallen for her, like so many others already had. She was so strong, and together they could have moved entire worlds.

But he knew he could never truly feel that way about her. Not when his heart had no room to spare.

In front of him, Estelle reached up to wipe at her eyes, laughing a bit as if she found herself silly. “Well then,” she said, “I…I should get going. The Knights’re all probably thinking by now that I’ve run off on them.”

Yuri smiled at that. “Okay. Thank you, Estelle.”

She nodded. “Take good care of him, Yuri. When he wakes up…he’s going to need you by his side.” And with a brief, gentle touch to his arm, she walked away.

Yuri stayed behind in the alley for a moment, listening to the greetings from the Knights upon Estelle’s return, the barked out orders, the whickering of the quiettas as the group departed. Only after the sounds had faded into the distance did he finally straighten, looking up at the rapidly-lightening sky above.

It was time to go to the inn.

By the time he made it to the sturdy wooden building, the town was officially starting to wake up. The first pedestrians of the day called greetings to each other as Dahngrest roused itself from sleep once again. Yuri was hardly surprised when he saw Repede sitting just outside the door, watching him expectantly. His tail wagged as Yuri approached, and he smiled, reaching down to pat the top of his dog’s head. “Yeah, Repede. I wanna see him too.”

Repede followed him into the inn and up the stairs to Flynn’s room. When Yuri pushed the door open, though, he couldn’t help but stop for a moment.

“Judy?”

The long-haired Krityan turned at his voice, face immediately softening into a welcoming smile. “Yuri. Good morning,” she said, rising from the chair next to Flynn’s bed.

Yuri nodded and waited just long enough for Repede to walk into the room before shutting the door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Well, Estelle asked me to watch him for a while after she left,” Judith answered, lacing her fingers behind her back and taking her usual cocked-hip pose that carelessly pushed out her ample bosom. Yuri, however, hardly even noticed. He’d learned long ago that Krityans possessed none of the insecurity regarding their bodies that so plagued humans, and indeed used their postures and movements to communicate almost as much information as their words. This particular pose, though perhaps scandalous to human eyes, was merely Judith’s way of indicating she was comfortable.

“I suppose you’re here to relieve me of my post?” Judith continued, with another of her alluring and impossible-to-read smiles.

“Ah…yeah.”

“Okay.” She paused for a moment before shifting to the other foot, seeming to draw into herself a little in the process as her voice went soft. “Estelle told me about what happened. I still can’t believe the Council would just throw Flynn away like this, and after all he’s done for the Empire, you know?”

Yuri nodded again. “Yeah. Only fools could think Flynn would betray his country.”

“Yes.” Judith ran an elegant finger along a long, tapered ear. “Well, either way, they can’t reach him here. Flynn is in good hands now.”

“Yeah. Brave Vesperia’ll look after him.”

Judith cocked her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “I wasn’t talking about our guild.”

“I know.”

To her credit, Judith didn’t press the issue. Instead, she just smiled and shook her head as she headed for the door. “I’m gonna go make some breakfast. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Okay. See you later, Repede.”

“Woof!”

The door shut behind her with a soft click. Repede whined softly from his spot at the foot of the bed, and Yuri soon joined him, sinking down into the chair Judith had vacated and looking down at Flynn.

His friend seemed largely unchanged from the previous evening, skin still pale and body swathed in bandages. Still, Yuri couldn’t help but inhale on a shaky breath as he took in the sight. Without Estelle’s healing arte to cover up, it was now easy to see what was left of Flynn’s leg, and Yuri bit his lip, putting all his strength into not breaking down when he saw how, just below the knee, Flynn’s leg just…ended. There was nothing left: no muscle, no bone, just a rounded patch of skin scabbed over with fresh pink scars. Would Flynn ever be able to fight again? Would he ever even be able to _walk?_

Yuri remembered Flynn’s strength, the swift strokes of his blade and the way he could power his way across a battlefield seemingly by will alone. He remembered how the sword and shield seemed sometimes almost to be an extension of Flynn’s body, the smooth yet deadly grace with which he moved, the way he felt at Yuri’s back, strong and unyielding and _safe_.

Now, lying pale and still on the bed with only the steady rise and fall of his chest to prove he was even still alive, Flynn was no longer any of those things. Yuri swallowed, reaching forward to brush gentle fingers through Flynn’s blond hair, careful not to disturb the bandages. _It’s okay, Flynn,_ he thought to himself. _I’ll be strong enough for the both of us._

Repede woofed softly, raising his head to nose at Flynn’s hand, which hung just a little off the edge of the bed. Yuri took it, ran his fingers over the smooth expanse of Flynn’s palm, and allowed himself a little relief when he saw that Flynn’s fingertips had also been healed, the nails regrown and intact. A parting gift from Estelle, perhaps.

He touched the calluses on Flynn’s fingers, years of swordplay stamping their marks on Flynn’s body like the deepest of brands. Flynn’s hands had been rough three years ago too, when they’d touched Yuri’s skin that fateful night in Aurnion. Had Flynn told anyone besides Estelle? Or had he borne the burden of their secret alone all these years?

Yuri didn’t allow himself to dwell on that night very much. Every time he did, the memories were too painful, the emotions too strong and he inevitably ended up pushing the thoughts aside, burying them beneath guild jobs and sparring matches and occasional pulls from the bottle he kept under his bed. But now, when he closed his eyes and thought back to that night, he only felt a heavy sense of resignation. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe it meant it was time to stop running.

Did Flynn remember it as clearly as Yuri did? Did he remember the unusual warmth of the night air, or the howl of a stray dog in the distance? Or the way Yuri’s heart had fluttered in his chest when Flynn had turned to him, gaze steady and sincere and holding nothing back?

 _Tomorrow could be the end,_ Flynn had said, his fingers warm and sure around Yuri’s wrist. _Please, I…I don’t want you to go without knowing._

 And then his lips had been on Yuri’s own, soft and slightly chapped, and Yuri’s entire world had ground to a halt. Because Flynn was kissing him. Flynn, who was beautiful and strong and complemented Yuri’s very _soul_ , and it was like everything Yuri had ever wanted but had been too afraid to ask for had been wrapped up and presented to him in one wonderful moment. His body sang, his heart expanded with hope and joy and terrifying love until he’d though it would burst right out of his chest, and he started to lift his hand, started to pull Flynn closer, to finally erase the remaining distance between them—

And then reality came flooding back, the cold truth of the matter that froze Yuri’s limbs and halted him from kissing back. Because Flynn was the Commandant now, one of the most powerful men in the Empire, finally able to change the world like they’d promised but under the scrutiny of all whom the Empire’s shadow touched. And Yuri…Yuri was nothing but a common criminal, a murderer who was worth little more than a dog and a blade, and exactly the weak link in the chain that could bring everything Flynn had built crashing down in a blazing inferno.

Flynn had pulled back after a moment, eyes bright, cheeks slightly pink. _Yuri?_ he’d said, hopeful, unsure. And Yuri, looking into the eyes of his friend, his partner and confidante and the love of his pathetic fucking life, had known that there was only one thing he could do. There was only one way to ensure Flynn’s station, his success, and ultimately, his happiness.

Yuri couldn’t infect Flynn with the cancer of his existence.

 _No._ The word had come out mechanical and dead, and he’d seen Flynn stiffen, seen his expression crumble. _We can’t do this. I’m sorry, Flynn._

And then he’d turned around and walked away, his heart cracking with each step until finally it shattered, shards of pain and icy cold lancing through his chest.

Flynn hadn’t followed him. And Yuri hadn’t looked back.

Now, three years later, Yuri looked down at his fallen friend, pale and small and broken beyond repair, and grit his teeth against the tears that stung his eyes. He could see now just how foolish he’d been, thinking his rejection could ensure Flynn’s happiness. What if yesterday, Yuri had found a corpse in the forest? What if Flynn had died thinking Yuri not only didn’t return his feelings, but despised him for it?

Outside, a child gave a shrieking laugh, followed shortly by the soft lilt of his mother’s voice. Yuri slowly lifted Flynn’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles. When Flynn woke up, they would talk about this: no holds barred, no cowardly ploys. After coming so close to losing Flynn, Yuri didn’t want him to go without knowing, either.

Closing his eyes, Yuri pressed Flynn’s hand to his heart, and resolved to wait.

 

He startled awake with a jolt some time later, everything strange and off-balance for a brief moment before he remembered where he was. A quick glance at the window showed it was already past noon. When had he fallen asleep?

Pain suddenly flared up in his left hand and Yuri yelped, pulling back out of range of sharp teeth. “ _Ow_ —Repede!”

But Repede didn’t stop, instead seizing the next closest part of Yuri he could reach—the leg of his pants—and pulling, all the while whimpering through his mouthful. His tail was curled down between his legs in panicked distress, and his single eye gazed up at Yuri, frantic. Something was wrong.

Yuri leaped to his feet, crouching over Flynn on the bed. Immediately he saw what had Repede so scared: some time in the last few hours, Flynn had turned onto his side—his _bad_ side, injured leg now pressed under the weight of his body, and he shook all over, so hard Yuri thought he might vibrate right out of his skin. His face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead, and through the chattering of his teeth Yuri could also hear the soft, pained sounds he was making at the back of his throat. Flynn’s leg must be agonizing him, yet his body was too weak to correct the position on its own.

Yuri’s first instinct was to call for help, panic erupting in his chest. Had Estelle missed something? Had the infection come back? Had—

But then, almost in the next instant, logic came to the rescue. Estelle had been healing people her entire life, had been _born_ with the ability—she knew what she was doing. And Yuri had seen enough serious injuries—though none as grievous as this—to know that Flynn’s symptoms right now were a good sign. Flynn wasn’t dying. Rather, his fever must finally be breaking.

Repede, having apparently missed the memo, gave another anguished bark, heaving his front paws up onto the bed. Yuri quickly intercepted him. “No,” he cried, pushing the dog back, “Repede, no—you might hurt him!”

Repede whined, circling agitatedly as Yuri knelt by the bed, reaching forward to gently turn Flynn onto his good side. He tried not to think about how he could feel Flynn’s bones through his skin, or how moving him was as easy as arranging a rag doll. Instead, Yuri focused on pulling the covers back so that he could slide in next to Flynn, settling down atop the mattress and gently gathering his friend into his arms. He then carefully hooked his foot around the top of Flynn’s leg to ensure he couldn’t turn back around, and tried to ignore how Flynn was still shaking so badly Yuri could feel the tremors in his chest from where Flynn was pressed up against him, head tucked under his chin.

Somewhere at his back Repede barked, the steady _click-click_ of nails on hardwood betraying his continued worry. Yuri tightened his hold on Flynn as much as he dared, nosing into soft blond hair and trying to calm his pounding heart. It was okay. Flynn was getting better, not worse.

Flynn’s trembling suddenly abated somewhat as thin fingers clutched weakly at his shirt. A moment later, a small voice rasped out, “Yuri…?”

Yuri’s breath caught in his throat so that he had to swallow twice before he could reply. “Yeah, Flynn. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Brief silence as Flynn continued to grasp at him, feeble and confused. Looking down, Yuri caught just the briefest flash of blue, and felt his heart expand in his chest with hope and something so much vaster and more terrifying.

“It’s…c-cold…”

“I know.” Yuri ran his hand down Flynn’s back, wishing they had more blankets, or a fiero blastia—anything that would make Flynn’s shivering subside. “I know. But it’s okay, Flynn. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Yuri…” But Flynn said nothing more, pulled back into his feverish dreams. Repede whimpered, high-pitched and heart-breaking, as close to crying as he would ever get. Yuri for his part just forced himself to take even, measured breaths, reaching up to touch Flynn’s face with shaking fingers.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, like it was a secret. “I’ll take care of you.”

Flynn didn’t answer, but Yuri hoped he heard all the same.

 

Some time later, the drag of a chain on hardwood and a soft _click_ announced Repede’s departure. Yuri didn’t question it, instead returning to the steady sharpening of the small knife in his hands. It was about time Repede took some time to himself, anyway. With the way Yuri’s own emotions had been put through the wringer the last couple of days, he could only imagine what Repede, loyal to a fault, had had to go through.

For Flynn, at least, things were looking up at last. His fever had finally subsided for good an hour or so ago, and Yuri had eased him gently onto his back, careful not to put undue pressure on his leg. He now seemed to be resting easier, at least, body no longer wracked by uncontrollable tremors, and the color was slowly returning to his features, skin no longer pale and sickly like before.

Yuri hummed, looking down at the whetstone in his hand. Maybe he should compose a letter to Estelle updating her on the situation. After all, he had a lot of writing to make up for. But would she be back in Zaphias yet? They’d only left less than half a day ago, after all, and they still needed to pass through Keiv Moc before even reaching Capua Torim…

Bedsheets rustled, the sound eerily loud in the quiet of the room. Yuri nearly dropped the whetstone in his hurry to reach the bed. “Flynn?” he whispered, almost afraid to breathe.

Beneath the covers, Flynn shifted again, unconsciously turning his head toward the sound of Yuri’s voice. He let out a breath, tired and just a bit pained, before slowly—so slowly it felt like years passed—easing his eyes open.

The sight of that deep ocean blue stole the breath from Yuri’s lungs, and he could only watch as Flynn blinked, gaze sliding to take in the room before finally settling on him. Flynn coughed a little. “Yuri?”

His voice sounded much the same as before, wrecked and hoarse and raspy with disuse, but still Yuri had never been happier to hear his name. He swallowed, reaching forward to brush a few stray strands of blond hair from Flynn’s forehead. “Yeah, Flynn, it’s me. Wel…Welcome back.”

Flynn leaned almost instinctively into his touch before coughing again. “Water?”

“Oh, right.” Quickly Yuri retrieved the glass from the table. Sliding his arm across Flynn’s back to brace him, he helped Flynn sit up enough to drink. The entire glass was drained in an instant.

“More,” Flynn whispered, but Yuri shook his head, lifting the glass out of range while simultaneously easing Flynn back so that he could rest sitting up against the headboard.

“No, maybe later. We can’t risk you getting sick.”

Flynn either agreed with that logic or was simply too tired to argue because he just sighed, wincing a bit as he shifted beneath the blankets. “Where am I?”

“In Dahngrest,” Yuri answered.

“How long was I out?”

“Well, it’s been almost two days since we found you. Before that…we don’t know.”

Flynn nodded, gaze shifting toward the sunlight spilling in through the window. “I see.”

They fell into silence for a moment. Yuri tried not to fidget, still seated on the edge of the bed. But Flynn said nothing more, just continuing to look out the window. He breathed with that forced, even steadiness that Yuri knew indicated that he wanted that to be the only thing he was aware of.

After another moment, Yuri swallowed and forced himself to speak. “Flynn, I…I don’t know how to tell you this, but your leg…”

“I know.”

Yuri’s stare must have betrayed his surprise, because Flynn only sighed and looked down at his hands. They were trembling. “I knew, even before I passed out, that it was unsalvageable,” Flynn whispered. “And I haven’t been able to feel it since I woke up.” His voice as he spoke was steady and soft. Resigned.

Yuri swallowed, clenched his fist, and looked away. “Flynn, I…I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”

But Flynn only shook his head and lifted his gaze to the window once again. “This is the price I paid to protect my country,” he said. It sounded recited.

For a moment, Yuri could only stare at him, too shocked to speak. Even when he finally regained his voice, it was only because anger, hot and desperate, flared up in his chest. He shot to his feet as if he’d been burned. “The price you…? Flynn, how can you even _say_ that?”

Flynn didn’t look at him. “It’s only the truth, Yuri.”

“Do you even _hear_ yourself?” Only the extent of Flynn’s injuries prevented Yuri from grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “After all the Empire put you through, _this_ is what you have to say? They don’t give a _shit_ about you, Flynn!”

Flynn didn’t answer. Yuri bit his lip. “Flynn,” he said, watching as the chasm between them grew impossibly wide. Where was his childhood friend, the one who’d been so strong, so willing to put everything on the line in order to achieve his dreams? Where was the Flynn Yuri respected, the one he loved?

“What happened to you?” Yuri whispered.

Then, for the first time, Flynn turned to look straight at him. Yuri felt something in his heart crack when he saw the blankness in his friend’s blue eyes.

“I grew up, Yuri,” Flynn said then. “That’s all.”

“Flynn…”

A knock at the door jarred Yuri out of what he was going to say next. An instant later, the thin wooden partition flew open as Repede bounded into the room, beelining it straight for Flynn’s bed. As the large war dog heaved his paws up onto the edge of the mattress, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a rare display of pure affection, Yuri saw Flynn smile for the first time. “Hey, boy,” he whispered.

“Oh, look who’s awake,” said a new voice, and Yuri turned to see Judith walking in. She held what appeared to be a bowl of curry and vegetables in her hand. “How are you feeling?” the Krityan continued.

“Okay,” Flynn answered, the fingers of his left hand—the ones that did not still have splints on them—curled in the coarse fur of Repede’s neck. “That, ah, that smells really good.”

“Well, I made it for you,” Judith said, taking the seat Yuri had vacated.

“Oh. Thank you; that’s very kind.”

None of them even glanced Yuri’s way. And though he sensed no malice from any of them, Yuri knew he had no place here right now. It was the first time since before he could remember that he’d felt like a third wheel in Flynn’s presence.

Quietly, he let himself out.

The sunlight was comforting and warm as he made his way back to Brave Vesperia’s headquarters, but Yuri barely felt it. Flynn’s words seemed to echo in his mind with every step he took: resigned, defeated.

_I grew up, Yuri. That’s all._

Part of Yuri still turned hot with anger when he thought about what Flynn had said. How could he be so accepting of what had happened to him? How could he take the news that his _whole fucking leg_ had been amputated, and simply shrug and brush it aside? Had he really become that much of a puppet, that much of a lifeless doll for the Empire to use and break and then cast aside?

But then the other part of Yuri, the part that grew warm and fierce with protectiveness whenever he thought of Flynn, knew it wasn’t that simple. Whether or not he admitted to it, Flynn was suffering. Flynn _needed_ him, now more than ever, and as with all the other times, Yuri had only been able to respond to him with judgment and anger.

The building was empty when Yuri got there. He didn’t know where Karol was, but Yuri was grateful for the solitude. His stomach grumbled and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the previous night. He decided to fix himself something, hoping the mindless act of cooking would help distract his thoughts from Flynn for a while.

It didn’t quite work, but at least the bowl of soup noodles he ended up making promised to be at least partly edible. Yuri had just set it out for himself when the door opened and Judith walked in. She smiled upon seeing him. “Mm, that smells good. Did you use the spices we bought in Mantaic?”

“Yeah,” Yuri answered, even though he wouldn’t be able to tell you right now whether he’d used spices or their cleaning products. “You want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

She settled herself at the table across from him, watching him with that look that never failed to make Yuri feel both flattered and judged in the same instant. He tolerated it for a moment before finally putting his chopsticks down.

“How’s Flynn?” he asked. He didn’t bother to hide the concern in his voice; Judith would have been able to see it anyway.

“He’s resting. Repede is watching over him,” Judith replied. Apparently recanting her previous statement about her appetite, she reached forward and fished a piece of pork from Yuri’s bowl. “He told me what happened,” she added, before Yuri could protest.

“Oh.” Yuri looked down at his bowl.

“It was basically everything that we thought,” Judith continued, chewing thoughtfully. Her voice betrayed nothing. “A couple of the dissidents got the drop on Flynn in the middle of the battle and took him to one of their underground hideouts. They…interrogated him there. Apparently they’re after information regarding Alexei, something to do with the formula he used to control Estelle that one time.

“Either way, it wasn’t something Flynn knew anything about. But they didn’t know he didn’t know, so…”

 _So they mutilated him,_ Yuri thought, and clenched his fist beneath the table. Those bastards. Once he got his hands on them…

“Flynn says they held him captive for about three weeks. It seems, after that, he realized that the Empire wasn’t coming for him, so he managed to fight his way out and escape. He was trying to get to Dahngrest when he collapsed.” Judith paused then, and looked straight at Yuri. “I think you and I both know why he was headed here.”

Yuri swallowed against the guilt that rose in his heart at Judith’s words. As Commandant, Flynn would have known that Heliord would be a safer place for him—treaty or no, the Union had never been friendly with the Imperial Knights. But he’d chosen Dahngrest instead, had dragged himself through the forest toward the city with infection eating him from inside out, just because…

Across the table, Judith shifted, crossing one leg over the other and eyeing Yuri intently. “Yuri,” she said, and at last the seriousness seeped into her voice. “I’ve never been one to pry, or to concern myself with the affairs of others. But I’ve known for a long time, perhaps even from the first moment I saw you and Flynn together, that what you have between you runs deeper than mere friendship.”

Half of Yuri wanted to protest, more out of reflex than anything else, but the other half simply grew resigned. He was hardly surprised, at any rate; from the curious, assessing looks he’d occasionally caught Judith giving him and Flynn during their journey three years ago, Yuri actually suspected she’d caught on to the situation before Yuri himself even had.

Judith took his silence for the acquiescence that it was, because she nodded and continued. “Now, I’ve always thought it prudent to leave that to the two of you to figure out, but now I see that perhaps I put too much faith in your respective abilities to resolve this on your own. And since Flynn has always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, I’m pretty confident in assuming that the one who messed things up between you is you.”

“Yeah, well.” Yuri sighed. “You wouldn’t be wrong about that.”

Judith nodded. “I can understand why you pushed him away,” she said. “After all, you don’t do attachment very well, no matter what sort of front you put up.”

That surprised him. Yuri looked up. “Wait—no, that’s not it. I did it for Flynn. I did it so that I wouldn’t hold him back.”

Judith blinked at him for a moment, as if that was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Then, abruptly, her expression grew soft and almost sympathetic, as if she were a mother who now had to tell her young child that his imaginary friend actually didn’t exist. “Oh, Yuri,” she said. “Is that really what you think?”

Yuri stared at her. What did she mean by that? He _knew_ why he’d rejected Flynn in Aurnion. He’d been there, hadn’t he?

Judith rose from the table and snatched up a napkin to wipe her hands. “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” she said, although the tone of her voice seemed to indicate that nothing else could matter more. “My spear needs some polishing. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

And without another word, she left.

Yuri remained seated where he was, staring at her as she made her way up the stairs. For perhaps the first time in his life, he resented Judith and her cryptic words. What right did she have, making judgments on his actions as an outside observer? Yuri knew exactly why he’d walked away from Flynn in Aurnion. He’d had three years to ruminate on it, to replay the scene over and over and feel the guilt clawing at his chest each time. Back then, he’d just been trying to make the right decision, and for him, that meant doing his best to leave Flynn untarnished and pure, so that he could continue to make the changes they together wished for the world. Yuri had no ulterior motives. If it hadn’t been for Flynn’s position, he would have accepted Flynn with open arms that night.

Really. He would have.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see the boss of their guild walk in, holding something in his hand. “Oh. Hey, Karol.”

“Hey.” Karol paused just long enough to shut the door behind him before walking over to the table and offering what looked like an envelope. “I dropped by the post office on my way back here. This is for you.” The letter was postmarked from Zaphias, but bore no return address.

Yuri blinked and took the envelope. Estelle usually stamped her name on all her letters, so this couldn’t be from her. And he couldn’t think of anyone else in Zaphias who might have pressing business with him.

Karol sat down at the table across from him and looked at him expectantly. With a shrug, Yuri slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter. He couldn’t help but blink again then.

“It’s from the acting Commandant,” he said.

“Huh.” Karol tilted his head. “What’s it say?”

Yuri began to read.

 

_Yuri Lowell,_

_My name is Lucius Adifer, current acting Commandant of the Imperial Knights. It has come to my attention that Flynn Scifo currently resides in Dahngrest under your care. I write you today to provide you with an update on the situation here in Zaphias, with the hopes that you might relay this information to former Commandant Scifo as soon as he is well._

_Though Lady Estellise has testified as to the circumstances of Scifo’s discovery as well as the injuries he sustained, the Council remains reluctant to retract their proclamation of Scifo as a traitor. However, I can say with some confidence that, in the brief time I have been heading the Knights, the majority of the men under my command remain loyal to the former Commandant. I myself am also convinced of his innocence. However, the Council’s influence is such that much of Zaphias’s people have unfortunately begun to sway._

_I also wish to inform you that we have obtained further information regarding the organization responsible for Scifo’s recent capture. Our intelligence division has now confirmed that the group is based largely in Tolbyccia and is comprised primarily of those soldiers who remain loyal to Alexei’s ideals. As of right now, we know very little of their ultimate plans. However, I can only assume that Scifo’s escape from their captivity has thrown a large wrench into the works. I would expect them to be on the hunt for him, if only so that he does not reveal their whereabouts. Please be on your guard. Though we do not have an accurate estimate of their numbers, I believe Alexei’s loyalists have cast a web wider than we would give them credit for. Commandant Scifo’s life is still in danger. I trust you, as his oldest friend, will protect him to the best of your ability as he heals._

_At this moment, Lady Estellise is seeking permission to return to Dahngrest as soon as possible. She has also apparently enlisted the aid of another of your former traveling companions: an Aspian mage by the name of Mordio, I believe. In the meantime, I will continue to try my best to keep you appraised of the situation. I hope the next letter I send you bears better news._

_Please look after Commandant Scifo. He is a man whom I greatly respect._

 

No one spoke for a moment after Yuri finished reading the letter. At last, though, Karol rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, he sounds like a decent guy, at least,” he said.

“Yeah,” Yuri said. “Good to know they didn’t appoint a total crackpot.”

“He also said Estelle’s trying to come back here, right? And she’s bringing Rita with her?”

“Sounds like it. Although I’m not sure why she wants Rita’s help. No formula in existence is going to get Flynn back his leg.”

And wasn’t that painful to say. Karol looked away as awkward silence fell between them. After a moment, though, he spoke again, determined. “I want to move Flynn here to our headquarters, in the spare room upstairs.”

Yuri blinked. “Why?”

“Well, you saw in the letter how those people might come after him,” Karol said. “And while I know Dahngrest is a pretty secure place, I just don’t think the inn is going to cut it. At least if he’s here, we can keep an eye on him.”

Well, Yuri couldn’t disagree with that. He also couldn’t deny how the worry seemed to relax its grip on his heart a little when he thought about Flynn being just down the hall, easy to reach and defend if necessary.

_Ah, but Yuri, that isn’t the only reason you want him so close, is it?_

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “I’ll ask Flynn about it the next time I see him. Then, as soon as he’s able to move around, we’ll do it.”

“Cool.” Karol rose from his chair and stretched. “Well, I should probably leave you alone. I’ve still got a ton of paperwork to catch up on, and it looks like your food’s getting cold.”

That was true, at least. Yuri hadn’t really touched the noodles since Judith had first walked in.

He nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, Karol.”

He waited until after Karol had disappeared up the stairs before turning back to his food. One bite immediately informed him that he had _not_ , in fact, used any of those spices from Mantaic. “Ugh—this is worse than Flynn’s cooking.”

Thankfully, no one was around to hear it. Yuri sighed and tucked into the meal anyway. After years of enduring Flynn’s idea of gourmet cuisine, it would take a lot more than a few misplaced spices to defeat his stomach.

 

A few hours later, Yuri slowly made his way back to the inn, the setting sun elongating his shadow against the wooden walls of the building. Under his arm he held a small box containing a serving of omelet rice fresh off the stove. Flynn had always liked the way Yuri made it.

The other guests must have already turned in for the night because all remained quiet as Yuri made his way up the stairs. He wondered if Flynn was still asleep. If he was, maybe he could just leave the food, pretend it was from Judy or something—

The sudden crash made him jump, and Repede’s high-pitched bark of distress had Yuri sprinting forward, nearly dropping the box as he threw open the door.

Flynn lay curled into a fetal position on the ground. Repede stood next to him, nosing anxiously at his face, and quickly Yuri ran forward and fell to his knees, reaching down to wrap his arms around his friend. “Flynn! Flynn, are you okay?”

Flynn didn’t answer at first. He was in obvious pain, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut in agony. Yuri used all his strength to haul him to a sitting position, bracing Flynn’s trembling body against his own torso as he reached out to touch Flynn’s face. “Flynn? Come on, man, open your eyes. Flynn, look at me!”

After another heart-pounding moment, Flynn finally cracked an eye open. His entire body sagged against Yuri’s as if he didn’t even have the strength anymore to hold himself up. “Hurts…” he bit out through his teeth.

Yuri nodded, gathering Flynn close and running a soothing hand down his back. “I know. Just breathe for me, Flynn. You gotta breathe through it.”

And after a while, Flynn did just that, slowly timing his breaths with Yuri’s own until, after a few more minutes, his trembling subsided somewhat and he exhaled. “Damn. That sucked.”

“Tell me about it.” Yuri shook his head and slowly got to his feet, helping to ease Flynn back onto the bed until they were seated side by side. “What the hell were you doing, anyway?” His arm remained looped across Flynn’s shoulders. Neither of them noticed.

Flynn winced, rubbing at his leg. Yuri noted immediately that, while he seemed okay touching the stump, he never looked directly at it.

“Just trying to get out of bed by myself,” he said. “Guess I should’ve thought that through a little more.”

Yuri cracked a lopsided smile. “Yeah, you should have, you dumbass. Repede doesn’t exactly make a good crutch.”

That earned him an indignant bark from the dog and a sideways look from Flynn, but it was more amused than angry. Yuri counted that as a win.

“You hungry?” he asked, and Flynn nodded.

“Starving, actually. It’s why I was trying to get up in the first place.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here then.” Yuri rose and retrieved the box of food. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to have sustained much damage from when Yuri had flung it carelessly onto the table in his haste to reach Flynn.

They ate in silence for a while before Yuri finally spoke. “Hey, so I got a letter from the guy who apparently got stuck with your job. Someone named Adifer?”

“Oh, Lucius?” Flynn said, and something ugly and dangerously green-eyed flared up in Yuri’s gut when he saw how Flynn’s expression softened at the name. “I’m glad he’s the one they promoted. He’s quite gifted in a variety of areas.”

“…Really.”

“Yes. He served in the Schwann Brigade, as I recall, before I promoted him and Sodia simultaneously. And after Sodia deployed, Lucius became my second-in-command in Zaphias. He’s been invaluable to me these last couple of years.”

Yuri gave him a withered look. “I wish you wouldn’t scramble so much to heap praise on the guy who just stole your job.”

Flynn looked down at the food in his lap. His voice grew soft. “Well, it’s not like I can go back to leading troops in this condition. At least I know they picked someone qualified to replace me.”

Yuri again had to clamp down on his anger at that. Once more, Flynn was being so blasé, as if being betrayed by the Empire and kicked out onto the streets was just part of the job description. But now, after taking some time to think it over, Yuri knew it had to be an act. Flynn had just had everything taken away from him, all his hopes and dreams and ambitions for the future swept aside and destroyed in one fell swoop. And while Yuri was usually the one to brush things off, to put up an uncaring front and to act like nothing could touch him, he also knew he wasn’t the only one with that particular defense mechanism. Flynn may not have been as prone to closing himself up as Yuri was, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of doing so when he got desperate.

Underneath everything, Flynn was hurting. Yuri just wished he knew how to break through the layers his friend had put up in order to provide him the comfort he needed.

Sighing, Yuri fished a piece of meat out of his food and tossed it to Repede. The dog snapped it up in one bite, tail wagging as he looked up at them, clearly expecting more. Flynn shook his head and laughed a little. “I told you to stop feeding him scraps. You’re spoiling him.”

“Better me than you,” Yuri answered. “One bite of your cooking and he’d probably keel right over and die.”

Flynn shoved him lightly in the shoulder at that. “I’ll have you know I’ve been practicing,” he said. “A lot has changed in three years, Yuri.”

The weight of those words settled on them then, as they both seemed to realize that what Flynn had said could easily apply to far more than just his abysmal skills in the kitchen. From his spot on the floor, Repede whined, circling three times before he lay down to watch them with a calculating eye. _Go on,_ the look seemed to say. _You might as well get it over with._

Yuri sighed and set his food aside. “I think…we need to talk,” he said. “About Aurnion.”

Flynn nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose we can’t put it off any longer.”

Quiet for a moment. Then, abruptly, they spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry for—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

They both stopped, staring at each other. At last, Yuri waved his hand. “You go first.”

Flynn nodded again and dropped his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry for what I did that night,” he said. “I made assumptions, and then I got selfish. I ended up asking you for something I had no right to expect, especially after all the years we’ve been friends. For that, I apologize.”

For a moment, Yuri watched Flynn as Flynn watched the floor. He’d known Flynn would say something like this, the contents of his letters more than enough to indicate what he’d taken away from their encounter in Aurnion, but still, to hear Flynn actually say it, to hear him apologize for a decision that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Yuri’s own twisted sense of rightness…

Yuri sighed again, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “Flynn, I…I have to tell you something. Something I should have told you three years ago.”

Flynn closed his eyes. “It’s okay, Yuri, I already know. You don’t return my feelings, so—”

“No, Flynn, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Flynn blinked, eyes going wide. Yuri couldn’t meet his gaze, though, instead looking down at his hands in his lap as he said, “Those thoughts that you had about me, those assumptions you made…they weren’t wrong, Flynn. I didn’t…I don’t…” He let out a breath, shoulders sagging. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, what you asked for in Aurnion…I wanted to give it to you. I _still_ want to.”

Next to him, Flynn went carefully still. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate, as if every word had been selected with the utmost caution. “So then, when you walked away from me that night…”

“It was a mistake,” Yuri whispered. “I thought, back then, that that was the only way for you to be happy.”

“And why, exactly, did you think that?” Flynn asked, still in the same careful, frustratingly unreadable tone.

“Because I was everything you shouldn’t have been,” Yuri answered, all of a sudden just wanting to get it over with. “You were the Commandant, Flynn—you were the one who was just and heroic, the one everybody else looked up to. And I…I was nobody. And you and I both knew the horrible things I’d done.”

He paused and scrubbed a hand across his face. Flynn said nothing in response, so after a while, he continued, “I could have ruined you, Flynn. Back then, I _would_ have ruined you. So I walked away instead.”

Flynn still didn’t answer. Yuri glanced sideways at him, and saw that his friend was currently regarding him with an expression somewhere between hurt and indignation, as if Yuri had just bested him in a sword duel and was now rubbing it in his face. He cleared his throat and tried to smile.

“But it’s different now, Flynn. I’ve had some time to think about it, and I know now that what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have rejected you that night, not when it was something we both wanted. And now, after almost losing you for good, I realize that we really are stronger together than apart. So Flynn, I know I’m three years late on this, but…”

He reached for Flynn’s hand, but Flynn drew it back. Yuri stared as his friend lurched sideways to his feet, hanging on to the bedpost for support as he turned to face Yuri head-on. His blue eyes were stormy and dark.

“Yuri,” Flynn said, and his voice was pure poison. “You are such a fucking _idiot._ ”

Yuri bit his lip. “Flynn—”

“No.” Flynn edged his way around the bed, still hanging on to the bedpost, as if he wanted to put as much distance between Yuri and himself as possible. Yuri didn’t think he’d ever heard him sound this angry before. “After everything, _this_ is what you have to say? _This_ is the excuse you came up with?”

Wait—excuse? It wasn’t an excuse—it was the truth! All of a sudden Yuri was reminded of what Judith had said the other day. What did she and Flynn both see that Yuri couldn’t? He’d only been trying to protect Flynn.

From his spot next to the bed, Flynn continued to glare at him, angry and cold. “You say you did it for me,” he said, “and maybe that’s what you told yourself all these years. Maybe you even managed to convince yourself that really was the truth. But don’t think I’m stupid enough to fall for that, Yuri.”

Yuri couldn’t quite think of what to say. Flynn didn’t seem to mind, though, because he just clenched his fist and continued, “I’ve known you your whole life. Do you think I can’t see it when you’re lying, even if it’s to yourself? You’ve always been the one who’s scared of attachment, Yuri. _You’re_ the one who always runs from commitment, from emotion, from anything that could make you vulnerable. So what you did in Aurnion? That wasn’t about me, no matter what sort of bullshit you’ve fed yourself these last three years. Don’t think for a _second_ that what you did wasn’t completely selfish.”

Yuri stared. Could Flynn…was he saying…

“You got scared, so you bailed,” Flynn said, slow, like meting out a death sentence. “And now, you don’t get a second chance.”

They fell into silence. Flynn continued to radiate indignation like a fiero blastia, while Yuri could only stare at him, mouth fallen half-open in shock. Was this what Judith meant when she’d looked at him with such pity earlier? Was it possible Yuri had just been lying to himself all these years, burying his own vulnerability beneath a façade of noble sacrifice?

Repede, who’d gotten up from the floor the instant he’d sensed Flynn’s anger, now sat down and nudged Flynn’s good knee with a whine. Flynn shifted, balancing on his one foot as he looked away. “I’d like you to leave now,” he said.

Yuri rose to his feet. “Flynn—”

“ _Go_ ,” Flynn said, blue eyes flashing angry and dark.

Yuri went.

Night had settled when he stepped out into the street. It was cool and comfortable, a light breeze blowing past and ruffling his hair, but Yuri felt nothing of it as he directed his steps methodically back toward Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. Shame sat heavy and cold in his gut as Flynn’s words seemed to follow him with every step he took.

_You got scared, so you bailed._

Half of him wanted to protest that. After all, what right did Flynn have to make his presumptions about Yuri’s feelings when _he_ was the one having them? And back in Aurnion, Yuri really had wanted to protect Flynn. He really had thought that walking away was the best choice for both of them.

But then the other half of him whispered that that wasn’t the only reason. After all, Flynn and Judith were right: Yuri _was_ scared of attachment. It wasn’t something he liked to admit about himself, but when he thought of settling down, when he thought of spending the rest of his life with one other person, sharing secrets and heartache and something so much deeper...even if that person was Flynn, it still scared him. He’d always been the lone wolf, always the one to do everything on his own, and the prospect of having to share that with someone else was more terrifying than facing a Giganto monster all on his own.

Yuri stopped walking and sighed, staring down at the brickwork beneath his feet. Maybe, that night three years ago in Aurnion, he’d walked away from Flynn because he wanted them both to be happy. But maybe that happiness for Yuri hadn’t been because he would have protected Flynn. Maybe it had been because he’d found an excuse not to confront something that frightened him like nothing else ever could.

After all, had it really been all about Flynn, Yuri could have written. He could have dropped by Zaphias every once in a while, could have put some effort into maintaining the friendship between them that had taken a lifetime to build.

Instead, he’d withdrawn. He’d rejected Flynn’s letters and avoided him like the plague. And that, right there, was more than proof enough of just what exactly his motivations had been.

“Yuri Lowell,” he whispered, looking down at his hands. “You are the biggest idiot on the face of this earth.”

“Ya talkin’ to yourself there?”

Recognition followed the surprise so closely that it all became like one weird, toned-down startle response. Yuri turned and frowned, watching as Raven stepped out from the shadows.

“Ya know, usually we take that as an indication that ya need some serious help,” the older man continued, cheerful as always. “But I guess I can let it slide just this once.”

Yuri shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. He briefly considered admonishing Raven for sneaking up on people all the time—one day he was bound to do it to someone a lot less tolerant than Yuri was—but just as quickly he realized it would be a futile endeavor. Raven would pop up at random places until the end of time.

“Still hanging around, old man?” he asked instead, which was enough to get Raven to give one of his mocking, overly-dramatic pouts.

“What, you don’t enjoy my company? I’m hurt, seriously.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Raven grinned, but it was fleeting. When next he looked at Yuri, his expression grew considerably more serious. “Somethin’ I should know ‘bout why you’re walkin’ around puttin’ yourself down like that?”

Yuri sighed. “It’s not important.”

He meant to say _It’s my problem to handle,_ and thankfully Raven, ever perceptive, seemed to get it because the older man just shrugged. “Okay.”

They stood in silence for a brief moment before Raven spoke again. “So after hearin’ about what happened with Flynn, I took some time to look into these dissidents everyone’s talkin’ about.”

“Yeah?” Yuri worked to keep his anticipation in check. “What’d you find out?”

“Not much more ‘n we already knew,” Raven replied, and rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. “They do seem ta be a relatively small group, though—probably only a couple dozen folks at most. But they’re well-organized, and ya don’t always need numbers ta win if ya got the brains.”

Yuri nodded. Flynn’s capture was more than testimony enough to that. “Any ideas about where they are right now?”

“Manor o’ the Wicked, best as I can tell,” Raven said. “They’ve got a couple other gatherin’ places throughout Tolbyccia—one looks to be at Caer Bocram—but the Manor seems to be their base o’ operations, if ya get my meanin’.”

“You think Flynn might’ve been held there?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Okay.” Yuri turned the information over in his mind, already planning his approach. He would have to leave during the night so no one would catch him. That meant, if he stocked up on supplies during the day tomorrow while the shops were open—

“Hey.”

Raven’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Yuri looked at him. “What?”

The older man stuck his hands in his pockets and regarded Yuri with a steady gaze. “Whatever yer thinkin’ in that overly righteous head o’ yours, don’t. It ain’t worth the fallout.”

Yuri didn’t even pretend not to know what Raven was talking about. Instead, he looked away. “I have to do this, Raven. After what they did to Flynn…they _have_ to die.”

“I don’t disagree with you there,” Raven said, and Yuri could almost see the change, the shift in his voice and his posture, Schwann Oltorain falling over him like a familiar, well-worn coat. “But going up against them on your own right now would be rash at best and deadly at worst. You’d be going in with no knowledge of the situation and no backup if things went belly up. And do you really think what Flynn needs right now is for you to get yourself killed?”

At Yuri’s answering silence, he stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “What you need to do right now,” he said, “is focus on helping Flynn recover. Then, when we have more information, when we know our enemy and have planned an attack…then, and _only_ then, will we go. _Together._ ”

For a moment Yuri just glared at him, trying to convey with his eyes alone just how amused he was by Raven’s pep talk. But he might as well have been glaring rose petals for the effect it had on the other man, and at last he sighed, deflating.

“I just hate feeling so helpless,” he whispered, after a beat.

Raven’s expression softened and he stepped back. “That may be too harsh an assessment. You should start with what you _can_ do.”

“Like what?”

“Well.” Raven rubbed his chin. “You’re good with your hands, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe you should use them.” Raven fingered the hilt of his dagger thoughtfully. “I couldn’t help but notice how much trouble Flynn’s been havin’ gettin' around. So maybe you could start there.”

And just like that, the seed was planted. Raven was right. Here was something Yuri _could_ do.

“…Or, y’know, you could just do all his cookin’. And his dirty laundry and maybe scrub his floors—hey, maybe Judith’s still got her ol’ maid outfit— _yeowch!_ ” He gave Yuri a baleful look, rubbing his head. “Didja really have ta do that?”

“Yeah, I really did.” But Yuri was smiling, now laying out plans of a different nature. Was the Carpenters’ Guild open this late? If it wasn’t, maybe he could take Repede into the forest later and gather some raw material himself—

“Here.”

Yuri blinked, staring at the small bottle of sake Raven was currently holding out to him. The older man grinned. “Give this ta Lundgren—he’s the guy at the front desk of the Carpenters’ Guild. That should get ‘im to knock down the price o’ rentin’ space there a couple notches. And if he gets stubborn, tell ‘im I can always drop a line to his wife ‘bout that thing he did in Nordopolica.”

…Yuri _really_ didn’t want to know.  He accepted the sake bottle with a nod. “Got it. Thanks, Raven.”

“Fer what?” Raven flapped a hand at him as he turned down the road. “ _You’re_ the one who’s gonna be doin’ all the work. See ya!”

Yuri couldn’t help but shake his head as he watched the other man walk off. Leave it to Raven to be the only one who could dissuade Yuri from murder and get him into carpentry in the same breath. He was right, though: as much as Yuri wanted to just drop everything and go after those men, to make them pay for what they’d done, he knew what would happen if he charged in blind. And Yuri couldn’t think of anything crueler than to add his death to the already unbearably heavy burden Flynn was being forced to carry.

What was it he’d said to Flynn in his room, only a few minutes ago? _We really are stronger together than apart._ Maybe it was about time Yuri followed his own damned advice.

When he arrived at the Carpenters’ Guild headquarters a little while later, most of the building was already dark. The front door yielded to him easily, though, and Yuri poked his head in, taking in the broad tables, the scattering of tools and plans, and the thin layer of sawdust that coated the floor. “Uh, hello?”

“Yeah, jussa moment.”

Shuffling movement in one of the side rooms before a tall, broad-shouldered hulk of a man walked up to the front desk, carrying a giant wooden plank under his arm as if it were no heavier than a piece of paper. He looked Yuri up and down for a moment before speaking again. “Help you?” His accent was distinctly foreign, though Yuri couldn’t place it.

“I hope so. You Lundgren?”

“Yup. Whatchu want?” There was no rudeness in his tone. Rather, Yuri got the sense Lundgren was simply a man who preferred to get straight to the point. He could appreciate that.

He offered up the sake bottle. “Raven sent me here. He said this might lower the rent on a workspace.”

Lundgren hummed, and his gaze darted between Yuri and the bottle for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, then shifted the wooden plank to his other arm. “He tell ‘bout Nordopolica?”

“Should he have?”

That jerked a laugh out of the larger man, and Yuri felt his own body relax in response. Lundgren shook his head and took the bottle. “Fluffy-hair bastard,” he muttered, with nothing but fondness in his voice. Then he nodded at Yuri. “Give you one workshop, whole night. You use the tools an’ materials here. Five hundred gald, pay now. Deal?”

Yuri grinned. “Deal.”

They shook on it and Yuri paid. Lundgren nodded toward another one of the side rooms before he shuffled back the way he came, presumably to start working on Raven’s gift. Briefly Yuri pondered the possible safety implications of pairing hard alcohol with sharp tools, but just as quickly he dismissed the thought. Lundgren had made it this far without incident, after all.

The side room turned out to be all one workshop, probably just one of several housed within the building. Someone must have just finished up there too, because tools lay all over the place and scrap wood had piled up in the corner. Yuri didn’t mind, though. Back in the Lower Quarter when he’d fixed up his neighbors’ houses, patching roofs and repairing windows, he’d made do with whatever was on hand. In that vein, the haphazardness of the place was almost comforting in its familiarity.

It didn’t take Yuri long to gather what he needed: a hammer, a few nails, a level, a charcoal pencil and a ruler. The scrap pile in the corner yielded several slabs of clean-scented pine, sturdy yet light, and the circular saw mounted on the table in the center of the workshop would take the pain out of cutting everything up.

All in all, Yuri figured he was in for a productive night.

From the other room, Lundgren’s voice drifted in, singing some tune in a foreign language. It was terribly off-key and probably mostly fueled by alcohol. Yuri grinned, put on a pair of safety glasses, and got to work.

 

The light touch on his shoulder jolted Yuri out of his sleep faster than any gunshot. Immediately he flailed out with one hand, hoping to surprise his attacker as he snatched up his sword with the other—

“Whoa, whoa—wait now,” said a voice: low, accented and vaguely familiar. “Not gonna hurt you.”

Yuri blinked, staring up at his would-be assailant. Lundgren smiled—his teeth needed some serious work, but it was friendly. He held up his hands as if to telegraph harmlessness. “See? Juss me.”

The events of the previous night instantly rushed back. Yuri sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. “Sorry about that. I’m a little jumpy.” A full year of sleeping with one eye open and your sword in your hand, never knowing when the next group of monsters, bandits or assassins was going to pounce on you—it made a guy a little hypervigilant.

Lundgren shrugged and lowered his hands. “S’okay. The morning is here. You want the coffee?”

He offered a steaming mug. Yuri took it with a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Lundgren nodded at Yuri’s project, still lying on the table where he’d left it the night before, telling himself he’d just rest his eyes for a minute, just one short minute before heading back home…

“The work is good,” Lundgren said. “You make them before?”

“Yeah, but only for kids.” The fact that Lower Quarter children were all tiny little daredevils, coupled with the lack of inadequate medical treatment meant Yuri had had plenty of opportunities to practice.

“You make this for your friend, the Commandant one?” Lundgren asked next.

“…Yeah,” Yuri answered, as his guard went up. Lundgren seemed like a decent guy, but he was also a lifelong guildsman. So if he was going to have a problem with this…

But Lundgren just nodded. “Then he use this for long time, no? You need better cushion.” With that, he bent down, lifting the entire corner of the table with no effort at all, and pulled something off the bottom of the leg. “This fit?”

It was one of the rubber glides that kept the leg from scraping against the wooden floor. Yuri tried it, and of course it fit perfectly. “But are you sure? I don’t think the fee I paid covers this.”

But Lundgren just shook his head. “How do you say it…‘on the house’?” At Yuri’s astonished look, he smiled, surprisingly fond. “Your friend, he is good man. He make the Knights better with us. So this, you say I give to him as gift.”

“Oh.” Yuri smiled. With everything they’d been through on that journey three years back, sometimes he tended to forget that all the bad blood between the guilds and the Empire had generally been engineered by the few people with enough power to abuse. Most of Zaphias and Dahngrest’s everyday citizens, like Lundgren, really couldn’t care less. “Okay. Thanks.”

Lundgren nodded. “We open soon. Maybe you finish fast, yeah?”

“Ah, sure.” He only had a few last finishing touches to make, anyway. Lundgren headed back out to the front desk, presumably to get the place up and running for the day. Yuri regarded his work, still lying on the table, and allowed himself some hope.

He hoped this might be the first step—quite literally—toward repairing his relationship with Flynn.

 The morning was just underway when Yuri stepped out of the building a few minutes later, his project slung under his arm. Shopkeepers opened their stalls, while children played games and exchanged gossip on their way to school. It was all so normal and everyday, it was hard for Yuri to imagine his whole world had been turned on its head only a few days ago.

The innkeeper, who was sweeping the ground right outside the front door, gave him a nod and a friendly smile as he entered. The lobby was cheerfully busy, guests and residents alike taking advantage of the cheap breakfast options. Yuri wove his way through the crowd, careful not to hit anybody with his burden, and headed up the stairs.

Repede must have sensed his approach somehow because the war dog was waiting for him just outside Flynn’s door. His tail started wagging as Yuri approached, and he sniffed at Yuri’s bundle, looking up at him with curiosity in his single eye. Yuri smiled and scratched him behind the ear. “Baby steps,” he said, but wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Repede or himself.

Repede followed him into Flynn’s room. It was empty, and Yuri just stood there at the threshold blinking for a moment before the sound of running water caught his attention, coming from the cracked bathroom door. An instant later the sound stopped, the door swung open, and Flynn stepped out, grasping the doorframe for support as he limped forward on his good leg.

The first thing Yuri noticed was that he looked much better. The color had now returned almost fully to his skin, and though the fingers of his hand remained splinted and there were still a couple of bandages visible above the neckline of his shirt, he was a far cry from the broken, dying man Yuri had found in the forest only a few days ago. Flynn looked like he had just gotten out of bed, blond hair all sticking up in that way Yuri knew he hated, and he paused when he saw Yuri and blinked several times, as if half-convinced Yuri might be a remnant of some recent dream. “Oh. Good morning.”

He didn’t immediately ask Yuri to leave, which counted as a win. Flynn had never been able to hold a grudge for very long anyway. “Hey.” Yuri stepped forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Fine.” Flynn waved his hand in a vague motion that was probably meant to represent how he’d just emerged from the bathroom. “As you can see, I haven’t fallen like I did yesterday.”

“That’s good to hear.”

They fell into silence, awkward and uncomfortable for the first time since before Yuri could remember. The remnants of their argument from the previous night seemed to hang in the air like a fog. At last, Repede whuffed softly and nosed at the bundle under Yuri’s arm, catching Flynn’s attention. “Ah…what’s that?”

“Oh.” Yuri shifted a little, suddenly nervous. He hadn’t really thought about how he was going to do this. “They’re, uh, for you. You know. To help, or whatever.”

He held the crutches out. They were surprisingly light given the amount of wood he’d used, but from experience he knew pine always looked heavier than it actually was. And in the end, all those years fashioning similar supports for the Lower Quarter kids had paid off: it had only taken him six hours to finish both, whereas before it might have taken him a couple days.

Flynn tilted his head. “You made them?”e

“Yeah.”

Again, silence. Yuri shifted to the other foot, forcing himself to hold Flynn’s gaze. Flynn for his part watched him a little quizzically, as if he couldn’t quite figure out whether this was a joke or not.

Eventually, Repede barked as if impatient. Then Flynn’s face broke into a smile. Yuri felt something dark and fearful he hadn’t even known was there suddenly loosen its grip on his heart.

“Yuri…thank you,” Flynn said.

His blue eyes grew soft and fond, and Yuri cleared his throat, fighting back a blush as he answered, “Sure.”

It took some maneuvering, but eventually they got the crutches balanced beneath Flynn’s arms. They fit Flynn’s frame perfectly, no odd gaps or mismeasurements that hindered smooth movement, and Yuri secretly allowed himself a rush of inward pride. After all, how many people could claim the ability to fashion a pair of crutches from scratch that fit well despite not having taken any measurements beforehand? But then again, Yuri had always known Flynn almost as well as he knew himself. He’d hardly even had to think about it.

Still, that didn’t mean the crutches didn’t take some getting used to. Yuri tried his best not to hover too much as he watched Flynn carefully navigate his way back and forth across the room, first shakily but then with increasing confidence. The glides on the bottoms of each crutch made all the difference, and Yuri made a mental note to drop by the Carpenters’ Guild sometime to thank Lundgren again.

When at last Flynn was able to make it from the bathroom to the door without pausing, he turned to give Yuri another smile. “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

“Good.” Yuri returned the smile, though it was a bit shaky. “I’m glad I could help.” _Especially when I didn’t before. When you needed me the most._

They looked away from each other. Downstairs, someone told some sort of joke that got everyone to burst into raucous laughter. Seated by the bed, Repede yawned and scratched at himself.

At last, Flynn cleared his throat. “I feel I need to apologize,” he said, “for what I said yesterday.”

“No, you don’t,” Yuri answered, looking down at the floor, “because you were right.”

“What?”

“You were right,” Yuri repeated. He got up from where he’d been sitting on the bed, and looked out the window at the sun-soaked city. “That night in Aurnion…I did what I did because I _was_ scared. Maybe I still am.”

Flynn didn’t answer. When Yuri turned around, he saw that his friend was watching him, expression carefully neutral, waiting for him to finish. Yuri took a breath, and did. “But I realize now that I can’t hide behind my fear anymore. You nearly _died_ , Flynn. I almost lost you. And I…I can’t be selfish about this anymore.”

Flynn sighed. “Yuri…”

“No.” Yuri shook his head and stepped forward, far enough to still respect Flynn’s space, but close enough to make his intentions clear. “I know you said yesterday that I don’t get a second chance. I’m not sure I even deserve one. But after what’s happened…I want to _try_ , Flynn.”

Flynn didn’t answer. Yuri took a deep breath and forced himself to hold his friend’s gaze. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not even sure I can forgive myself. All I’m asking, though, is that you let me try, and if, in the end, your answer is still no, then I’ll respect that. But I’m not gonna just run away from this anymore.” He paused, licked suddenly dry lips. “You deserve more than that.”

Another moment of quiet as Flynn seemed to consider his words. Yuri tried not to fidget, worry and anticipation warring in his gut. What if Flynn refused? What if Yuri had already ruined any hope of salvaging their relationship, thanks to his stupidity three years ago?

But then, at last, Flynn smiled. It was small, just a bare upturning of his lips, but still genuine. He ducked his head a little, hiding behind the fringe of his blond bangs in a way Yuri knew meant he was secretly pleased but trying not to show it.

“Okay,” he said.

Something warm and hopeful began to blossom in Yuri’s heart. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Flynn’s smile grew warmer. Repede barked, lips drawn back from his teeth in a silly grin. Flynn chuckled. “See? Even Repede agrees.”

Yuri bit his lip against the sudden urge to run forward, wrap Flynn up in his arms, and say some very embarrassing things. Baby steps, he reminded himself. Instead, he fell back on his usual sarcasm. “I’m not sure you should be taking relationship advice from a dog.”

Repede woofed, indignant. Flynn smirked. “I think at this point, he’s more qualified than you.”

“We’ll see if you still think that when he’s running around humping everyone’s legs.”

“You’re losing yourself points there, Lowell.” There was no anger in Flynn’s voice, though, and the smile remained. Yuri rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh, wanna go get some breakfast downstairs or something?”

Flynn cocked his head. “You asking me out on a date?”

“Uh.” Yuri bit his lip. “Yes?”

Flynn laughed. It was the most beautiful sound Yuri had ever heard. “Okay,” he said, “but you’re buying.”

Yuri was too relieved to feel indignant. “Deal.”

They headed down to the lobby together a short while later, Repede barking and running encouraging circles around them both as Flynn carefully maneuvered the crutches down the stairs. Yuri for his part tried to hang back as much as possible, striving to keep a close eye on Flynn’s every step without making it look like that was what he was doing. In fact, he was so absorbed in doing that that he didn’t notice when Flynn suddenly stopped at the bottom of the stairs until he nearly bumped into him. “Whoa. Flynn?”

Flynn’s back tensed with surprise. Yuri frowned and tried to peer around his shoulder, but in the next instant a new voice shouted, “ _Flynn!_ ” and negated any worries Yuri had.

A blur of pink and white flew toward them, and Flynn blinked. “Ah, Lady Estellise…”

Estelle stopped in front of him and immediately set to work checking him over, hands flitting over his body. Yuri, standing next to them, had to suppress a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy, and immediately berated himself for it. Estelle was only being her usual concerned, caring self, after all.

“I came back as quickly as I could,” she said, not pausing in her movements. “How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine, I—”

“How long have you been walking around like this? Any trouble with your balance? Dizziness?”

“Your Highness—”

“Have you eaten yet? You should eat. Should I make you something? Vegetables are supposed to be really good for—”

“Oh- _kay,_ ” said a new voice, and Yuri turned as a familiar brown-haired, scarf-toting girl walked up to them and placed a hand on Estelle’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough hovering for one day, huh? Hit him with any more questions and you could almost make it an arte.”

Repede barked. Yuri grinned. “Hey, Rita.”

The young mage hadn’t changed much in the three years they’d been apart; her hair was a little longer and she now had a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, but otherwise Rita Mordio was still the same rambunctious, prickly genius Yuri remembered from their travels so long ago. Some things never changed.

Other things did, though. Like the smile that she gave them: warm, genuine, and taking no effort at all. “Hey, you guys. It’s been a while.”

Almost a year, if Yuri recalled correctly. That was only to be expected, though. With the blastia gone and the theory of mana now under serious development, researchers with Rita’s knowledge of energy and technology were in high demand. Truthfully, Yuri was surprised Estelle had managed to scrape out an opening in the young mage’s schedule large enough to bring her along for the visit.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t grateful, though. If they were going to help Flynn, and if they were going to track down the people who had hurt him, they would likely need Rita’s expertise.

Estelle straightened, face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing to them both. “I’m just so happy to see you up and about, especially since last time you looked…you know, much worse.” Her voice trailed off a little at the end of the sentence, small and unsure.

Brief, awkward silence fell over everyone present. Yuri thought he could feel the weight of Estelle’s words on Flynn’s shoulders, the realization at last of just how close he’d come. Unconsciously, he clenched his fist at his side.

After a moment, Rita once again came to the rescue. “Well, I’m starving,” she said, and though the cheer in her voice sounded a bit forced, Yuri was still grateful to her. “Why don’t we all go get some breakfast? Estelle wants to try out the kitchen in your fancy guild headquarters.”

Yuri blinked at the princess, who laughed a little, scratching her nose as her cheeks turned pink. “I, uh, I’ve been going kind of crazy in the castle’s kitchens ever since the attack on Ioder first happened,” she said. “It’s just so soothing, you know? And now I’m told I make really good breakfast skillets.”

“Ah, well…” Flynn glanced sideways at Yuri, clearly torn. Yuri, however, just smiled back before turning to the rest of the group with a shrug.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he said, and saw Flynn’s eyes soften in agreement. Estelle and Rita deserved their attention right now, after coming so far to see them. Their own time together could wait—they had a whole future ahead, after all.

Tolbyccia’s characteristic rain came down on them as soon as they stepped out of the inn. Yuri hardly minded, though; after living in Dahngrest for so long, he, like all the other guildsmen here, had long since gotten used to getting a little wet every time he stepped outside. It wasn’t even the worst Tolbyccia had to offer; only a light drizzle that barely dusted their clothes with moisture as they made their way down the street toward Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. The rest of Dahngrest’s citizens also seemed relatively unaffected by the weather; the mid-morning rush was just getting underway, pedestrians wandering back and forth down the streets on their various errands with no mind whatsoever to the rain.

Again, Estelle seemed to have left her Knight escort outside the town. Yuri was grateful for that; not only did it ensure tensions remained low, but he also wasn’t sure how Flynn would feel about having the other Knights, soldiers formerly under his command, seeing him in such a state.

Flynn and Estelle walked up ahead a little, the princess’s bright voice drifting back to them as she updated him on the situation in Zaphias. Repede followed a little behind, pausing occasionally to sniff curiously at various spots on the ground. Rita, for her part, seemed preoccupied with something. The third time he caught her eyeing Flynn’s leg with the speculative took he usually saw her giving her latest experiments, Yuri finally had enough. “What?” he said, and hated the way his voice came out a bit accusing. “He’s not the first soldier to lose a limb, you know.”

“Oh.” Rita looked up at him, guilt flickering across her face. “No, I—it wasn’t that. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Those crutches.” Whatever face Yuri made in response to that made her straighten her shoulders a little defensively. “Look, it’s not anything bad, okay? He seems able to get around fine on them. I was just thinking whether or not I could make some improvements. You know, make it easier, somehow.”

Yuri took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was only trying to help. “Okay,” he said, and was glad his voice sounded a lot calmer. “What ideas do you have?”

“Well, none really, as of yet,” Rita answered. “This sort of thing isn’t exactly my area of expertise. But I was thinking—”

But Yuri never got to hear what Rita was thinking, because in that moment, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. When asked later, he would never really be able to say what exactly it was: perhaps the movement of the pedestrian’s hand toward her belt, perhaps the dangerous glint in her eye, perhaps something else entirely. Either way, he was dashing forward before he even fully realized it. “Flynn, _look out!_ ”

Things after that happened very fast. The pedestrian, a young woman dressed in simple peasant garb, pulled a knife and lunged at Flynn. Estelle screamed. Flynn stumbled sideways, slamming into her. His crutches fell to the ground with a clatter.

Then Yuri was there, bringing his right arm up—pain lanced through his nerves as the knife drew a long bloody gash in his skin, but it was him and not Flynn, and that was all that mattered. The woman snarled, pure hatred in her eyes, but Yuri didn’t stop, didn’t even think. In the next heartbeat, he drew his sword with his left hand and ran it through the woman’s chest, all the way to the hilt.

Time, which had slowed down such that the last few seconds seemed more like a few years, suddenly snapped back into its regular flow. The woman looked up at him, face contorted with rage as blood trickled out the corner of her mouth. “This…isn’t over,” she bit out, and then she collapsed.

For a moment Yuri just stood there, looking down at the body at his feet, the blood soaking into the cobblestone beneath. His hands shook and his blood pounded in his ears, adrenaline making everything seem suddenly far away and unimportant. Even the wound in his arm was only an afterthought, a mere twinge of discomfort as he struggled to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Then Estelle’s voice broke into his thoughts and brought the world rushing back in. “Yuri!” she cried, running up to him. She gasped as she got a look at his arm, blood flowing freely from the slash wound. “Oh, no—hold still, I’ll heal you—”

Yuri barely heard the words as he pushed past her toward Flynn. Repede was sitting next to the blond Knight, whimpering as he pushed his nose into Flynn’s chest, but Flynn didn’t even seem to know he was there. His gaze was fixed on the woman’s corpse, his entire body trembling, and when Yuri saw the panic in his eyes, opened so wide the blue was surrounded entirely by white, Yuri instantly knew he wasn’t the one who needed help right now.

Carefully, he knelt down in front of his friend and reached a hand out, slowly. “Flynn?”

Flynn flinched back so violently he bumped his shoulder against the building behind him. His breaths came shaky and fast, and his gaze seemed far away, not even appearing to recognize Yuri in front of him. Resignation sank heavy in Yuri’s stomach when he realized he recognized these signs. He took a deep breath and turned to Estelle and Rita, who were watching them with matching expressions of concern.

“I’m taking him to our headquarters,” he said, nodding at the building only a few more steps away. “And you’re not coming.”

Estelle frowned. “No, perhaps I can help—”

But Rita interrupted her with a hand on her shoulder. When the young mage turned to Yuri, there was understanding in her eyes. “Take as much time as you need,” she said. “You know where to find us.” And with that, she led Estelle away, gently but firmly despite the princess’s continued protests.

Yuri turned back to Flynn and sighed. He hoped, at least, that Flynn had become more cooperative since the last time.

He had. Yuri was able to get him on his feet with little trouble, his friend swaying against him with about as much responsiveness as a doll as Yuri guided him down the sidewalk and into Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. The main area was thankfully empty—Karol and Judith must have left already on their errands for the day—and when Yuri reached the stairs, Flynn’s arm looped over his shoulder to support him, he turned back to Repede, who had followed them the entire way.

“Repede,” he said, and nodded at the dog. “Stay.”

It wasn’t often he used orders with Repede, the dog’s pride apt to earn him a nip to the heels for the trouble. But today, Repede seemed to understand the gravity of the situation because he only whined, circling a few times before laying down on the ground. His single eye watched Yuri the entire way as he slowly helped Flynn up the stairs.

Flynn hadn’t said anything since the attack, and he remained silent as Yuri guided him into his room, setting him carefully down on the edge of the bed. He made sure to lock the door, then took a moment to wrap his arm with a strip torn from an old shirt—it would probably scar like a bitch even after Estelle healed it, but right now he hardly cared. Kneeling down in front of Flynn, Yuri reached out to take his friend’s trembling hands in his own.

“Flynn,” he said.

Flynn flinched again, as if the sound were physically painful. His trembling increased, and Yuri could hear the quick-paced hitches as he hyperventilated. All the color had drained from his face, and he ducked his head with a low sound of terror in his throat. Yuri bit his lip, trying to will down the surge of anxiety that threatened to well up in his own body. It wouldn’t do to have them both succumbing to it now.

Flynn had his first panic attack when he was twelve. It scared the hell out of Yuri, watching the way his friend trembled, the way he struggled for breath and clutched at his chest and ended up getting sick all over the floor of the shitty little room they were sharing at the time. They never did find out exactly what triggered it—with how stressful their lives were as kids, it really could’ve been anything—but over the next few years, he got better at dealing with them, at recognizing the signs and knowing when he needed to pull Flynn away to a safe place in order to calm down. Flynn, too, seemed to get better with age and training, and by the time they joined the Imperial Knights together, he hadn’t had one in years.

Things were different now, though. _Everything_ was different. And as he watched the panic overwhelm his friend, watched Flynn give in to the anxiety and the fear as he had so many years ago, Yuri could only swallow and pray that, just like back then, he would be able to help Flynn now.

He rubbed at Flynn’s hands, calm and soothing. “Hey,” he said, and pitched his voice low, as steady and gentle as he could manage. Whenever Flynn panicked as a child, usually it was Yuri’s voice that brought him back, and he hoped it would do so now. “Flynn? Flynn, look at me.”

For the first time since the whole incident had started, panicked blue eyes finally turned to meet his own. Then Flynn abruptly shut them, hunching into himself a little. “I-I’m gonna die,” he whispered.

“No.” Yuri ran his hands up Flynn’s forearms. “You’re not. Flynn, you’re having a panic attack. Remember, like when we were younger? It’s all in your head.”

But Flynn only shook his head, not even seeming to have heard him. “I’m gonna die,” he repeated, voice rising in pitch and volume as the shaking increased, becoming so violent Yuri could barely keep a grip on him. “Oh god, I can’t breathe, I’m gonna die, Yuri, _help me_ —”

Yuri didn’t even have to think about it. He just rose up, wrapped his arms around Flynn and heaved. They fell together back onto the bed, and immediately Yuri rolled onto his side, pulling Flynn close and tangling their limbs together. “You’re okay,” he whispered, as Flynn continued to tremble against him. “You’re not gonna die, Flynn, or go crazy, or lose it for good. You’ve been through this before, remember?”

“I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can, Flynn. You just need to breathe, okay? Flynn, _breathe_. Come on, in…then out. And again. Yeah, just like that.”

He tightened his grip with one hand, running the other up and down Flynn’s back as he listened to Flynn’s breathing slowly even out. A few minutes later, Yuri finally felt the other man’s body sag against his own. The trembling diminished, then finally stopped completely.

Yuri waited a few more moments before finally whispering, “Flynn?”

It took a while, but when Flynn finally answered, his voice, though tired, was steady. “God, I forgot how much I hated that,” he murmured.

Yuri nodded and allowed a moment for the relief to wash over him. Flynn was okay and, like always, he’d trusted Yuri to take care of him. Yuri loosened his grip slightly, still tight enough to keep Flynn close but not so much that the other man couldn’t get some space if he wanted it.  “Yeah, me too.”

They lay together in silence for a moment longer. Yuri treasured it, this closeness to Flynn that he’d walked away from three years ago, that he never thought he’d get to have again. He felt slightly guilty that it had taken an assassination attempt and a panic attack to get it, but he wished the moment would last forever.

It didn’t, of course. Eventually Flynn shifted, one hand coming up to touch Yuri’s arm where he’d wrapped it. “You’re hurt.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Yuri flexed his fingers, hissing at the sharp pain that shot up at the movement. “Don’t worry about it.”

Flynn frowned. “I wish I could heal it for you. But without a bodhi blastia…”

“Don’t worry, Estelle’ll take care of it,” Yuri answered. “You shouldn’t push yourself, Flynn. Not with your leg the way it is.”

Although he hadn’t meant any malice in the words, Yuri still knew instantly that he’d said something wrong when Flynn’s shoulders abruptly stiffened. The other man shifted, pushing Yuri away as he struggled to a sitting position. “I should go check on Lady Estellise,” he said, and Yuri frowned.

“Wait,” he said, and laid a hand on Flynn’s shoulders to arrest him. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Flynn._ ”

Flynn was quiet for a moment. Yuri watched the stiff set of his shoulders, the tension all along his spine, and bit his lip against the guilt that surged up in him at the sight, even though he had no idea what he’d done wrong. All he’d said was that Flynn should take it easy because of his…leg…

Oh.

 _Yuri, you are such an_ idiot.

Flynn’s shoulders abruptly sagged, as if all the fight had left his body. He ducked his head, and when he spoke, his voice trembled just slightly. “You think it, just like everyone else,” he mumbled. “I guess I’d hoped that…you would be different.”

Yuri swallowed and squeezed Flynn’s shoulder. “Flynn…”

If possible, it seemed Flynn curled in on himself even more. “I try to be strong. It’s how I should be, right? But back there, when that woman attacked…I couldn’t _do_ anything. I couldn’t defend myself or even run away. All I could do was be terrified and hope someone else would save me.”

Yuri didn’t answer. What could he say to something like that?

Flynn let out a breath. It was choked. “I’m useless now,” he whispered. “I can’t fight, I can’t heal, I can’t even _walk_ without help. How can I even go on living in this world?”

The words lanced through Yuri’s heart more painfully than any blade, perhaps because he sensed this wasn’t the first time Flynn had had those thoughts. He moved without thinking, wrapping his arms around Flynn from behind and pulling him close. Flynn went without protest, and as Yuri gathered Flynn in, tucking the other man’s head beneath his chin and pressing him close to his heart where he always should have been, he couldn’t help but think of how small Flynn seemed now, how much of a mere shadow of himself. It hurt. It felt as if someone had gone and torn one of his own limbs off his body.

“You will,” he murmured, into the softness of Flynn’s hair. “I’ll help you.”

But Flynn just drew a shaky breath, clutching at Yuri as if he were a final lifeline. “But you can’t,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You can’t _fix_ this, Yuri. I’m nothing now, just a useless cripple. I’m nothing. I’m _nothing._ ”

The dam ruptured at last. Yuri bit his lip and clutched Flynn’s trembling body close, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of his own tears. “It’s gonna be okay, Flynn,” he said, and wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince. “It’s gonna be okay.” And he ducked his head and wished like hell to be right for once, as Flynn held on to him and sobbed, and finally, finally broke.

 

A little while later, the sky outside finally cleared, tendrils of sunlight tentatively picking their way into the room through the window, as if unsure of whether or not they would be welcome. Yuri barely noticed, looking down at Flynn as he slept, curled beneath the bedcovers. After he’d finally run out of tears, Flynn had put up no protest when Yuri encouraged him to lie down and rest, and had fallen asleep almost immediately. Yuri could only imagine how exhausted Flynn must feel, putting so much strength and energy into keeping up his walls, only to have them all come crashing down in one fleeting, terrifying moment.

Now, running gentle fingers down Flynn’s face and feeling the remnants of tear tracks rough against his skin, Yuri wished he could resurrect that would-be assassin, just so he could kill her again. Slowly.

The movement of his hand made another sharp twinge of pain light up in his arm. Yuri sighed and looked down at the wound, where red was beginning to seep through the cloth of the makeshift bandage. He needed to get it checked out, no matter how much he wanted to stay at Flynn’s side. After all, if the wound got infected, he wouldn’t be of much use to Flynn at all.

The sudden knock on the door startled him, and Yuri was on his feet in an instant, fingers tight around the handle of his sword as he called out, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” came Estelle’s voice, slightly muffled by the wood. “And Repede, of course.” A soft bark followed the addendum.

“Oh.” Yuri relaxed his grip and patted himself down. “Okay. Come on in.”

The door opened. Repede entered first, padding up to Yuri to bump his nose against his knee briefly before heading over to the bed to sniff at Flynn’s face. Flynn didn’t budge, a complete prisoner to the sleep of the utterly exhausted.

“He looks awful,” Estelle whispered, coming up to stand beside Yuri. “Shall I heal him?”

“No, it’s not necessary,” Yuri answered. _Not unless you can heal his mind._

Estelle nodded and turned to him. She reached down to grasp his arm, slowly undoing the bandage. “Here, hold still.”

A brief yellow glow, a flash of warm pressure as if someone had pressed a moist towel to his skin, and the pain disappeared. When the light receded, Yuri saw that the wound had faded into nothing but a jagged scar, vaguely lightning-shaped, that cut across his right forearm like a brand.

“Thanks, Estelle,” he said.

She nodded, but said nothing else. Together they looked down at Flynn for a moment. Yuri briefly wondered what Estelle was thinking. She’d seen it earlier, when Flynn had panicked. Did she also think him weak and unable to take care of himself?

After another moment, Estelle sighed. “I can’t believe they attacked him in broad daylight,” she said. “Raven took a look at the woman before they carried her away. Apparently he recognized her as a new recruit to the Knights a few years back, in the Cumore Brigade. That would mean she was close to Alexei.”

 _Cumore._ The rage that surged up in Yuri at the name was frightening in its intensity. First Alexei, and now this…it was as if all the ghosts of their past, the ghosts that Yuri had thought he’d slain, had decided to rise up to take away the one thing most precious to him in this world.

He nodded. “Do we know anything else about their presence in the city?”

“Not much,” Estelle answered. “Karol and Judith are looking into it. But with this attack, we can basically presume that they have eyes and ears all over Dahngrest, which means we’ll have to be careful. I’ve already asked the Knights to post sentries outside, and I had a couple of them go with Rita as well.”

“Rita? What’s she doing?”

“Oh, she went to go see the Soul Smiths,” Estelle said. “Although I have no idea why. She was muttering something about helping Flynn, but I’m not sure how that particular guild could be of use.”

Yuri agreed. The Soul Smiths were traditionally weapons makers, and even though the three years of relative peace had motivated them to transition recently to more general engineering and technology development, he still couldn’t see why Rita would want their help with anything, especially with regard to Flynn.

He decided to leave that dilemma for another day. There was enough on his plate as it was.

“Okay,” he said. “What about Raven?”

“He’s explaining the situation to the Union,” Estelle replied. “If there are people within Dahngrest’s walls who are not supposed to be here, I’m sure the leaders of the city will want to know that.”

Yuri nodded. It sounded like everyone was doing their part. But what was his role? Sure, he was trying to be there for Flynn, but was it enough? Flynn’s panic attack and the breakdown that followed seemed to indicate that the answer was no.

Estelle tilted her head to look at him. “You look tired, Yuri. Would you like me to watch him for a bit?”

“No.” Yuri straightened his shoulders. Somehow, having seen Flynn so vulnerable only a little while ago, he couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone but himself watching over him. It was selfish, yes, but it was the truth. “I’m fine, Estelle. Really.”

She nodded, and her eyes grew soft. “You really care about him, don’t you,” she said. It was more a statement than a question.

Still, Yuri nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Estelle smiled. “I’m glad,” she said. “After we went our separate ways, I was so worried about Flynn. And then when he told me about Aurnion, I knew there had to be some other reason why you said no.” She paused and looked up at him, almost shy. “But it’s only if you really, really love someone that you can push them away, right?”

Her words brought a lump to Yuri’s throat, and he had to look away. “Yes. But that was a mistake. I’m not losing him again, Estelle. Not this time.”

She nodded. “So you’ve talked?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll try again?”

Yuri turned to her and gave her a smile more brave than he felt. “We’re getting there.”

That seemed enough for Estelle. Her smile grew warm. “Okay,” she said. “I should go check on Rita. I’m not sure what sort of mischief she’ll get up to on her own, you know?”

That surprised a laugh out of Yuri. It felt like the first time in a long time. It felt good. “Sure. Thank you, Estelle.”

“Of course.” She gave him another smile and left.

Yuri waited until the door had shut behind her before turning to Repede. The dog barked, softly, then circled three times and lay down, looking expectantly up at Yuri from his paws. Yuri shook his head and smiled. Yeah, Repede probably had the right idea. Flynn needed to rest, and Yuri, after catching only a couple of hours last night because of his work, could feel the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders like a physical thing.

He took a moment to take off his boots and his belt before walking over to the bed. Flynn was still asleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest steady and firm as he lay beneath the blanket, and he didn’t wake, barely even stirred when Yuri slid under the covers next to him.

Yuri sighed, reaching out to brush fingers through Flynn’s blond hair. Flynn hummed low in the back of his throat and curled into Yuri, just as he had always done when they shared a bed as kids. It was so strange to think of how so much had changed over the years, yet other things had stayed exactly the same.

From his spot on the floor, Repede blew out a breath as he settled. Yuri did the same, gathering Flynn close and shutting his eyes. _We’re getting there,_ he thought, and allowed that to linger as he gave himself to sleep.

 

Some time later, a soft rustling in the room pulled Yuri from his dreams. Shifting a little beneath the covers, he ran a hand down the sheets next to him—only to discover that the space was empty. Flynn wasn’t there.

Panic lit his body up in a flash, and Yuri was awake and up even before his mind had finished processing the thought. Almost instantly he realized the fear was unnecessary, though, when he saw Flynn seated on the edge of the bed, looking down at something in his hands. His friend turned at Yuri’s movement, just enough so that Yuri could see one blue eye. “Hey.”

The relief that followed the initial panic made Yuri fall back onto the bed. “Hey back,” he said, and scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced out the window. The bright rays of sunlight filtering in through the glass were tilted at an angle. It must be sometime in the afternoon already. “Wow. We practically slept the whole day away.”

“Yeah,” Flynn answered, but he sounded distracted.

“How are you feeling?” Yuri asked, grabbing for his belt, which he’d draped over the headboard earlier.

“Okay. Better.” Flynn gave him a smile. “And alive, which I’ve yet to actually thank you for. So…thanks.”

“Oh. Sure.” Yuri had never even considered that Flynn would need to thank him for what he’d done. Not doing anything hadn’t even made it onto his radar in that moment, no more an option than slicing off his own arm. And he knew, without a doubt, that Flynn would have done the same thing had their positions been reversed.

Flynn went back to looking at whatever it was he held in his hand. Yuri shifted for a closer look, and realized with dismay that it was a letter, one of the ones from Zaphias that he hadn’t opened until three days ago. Gods, had it really been such a short time since he’d first found Flynn in the woods? It felt like ages ago.

The bag containing the rest of the letters was open at Flynn’s feet. Inwardly, Yuri kicked himself. He should’ve known not to leave it out in the open like that. Sure, Karol and Judith couldn’t care less, but if snooping were a sport, Flynn would be the world champion.

Yuri sighed and opened his mouth, but Flynn beat him to it. “Before you say anything, it wasn’t me. Repede brought the bag over almost as soon as I woke up.”

Yuri turned and glared at the dog, who just yawned at them from his spot on the floor. “Traitor,” he muttered.

Flynn smiled at that, but it was a little lopsided. “These all look very recently opened,” he said, and the resignation in his voice made it clear he had an idea of why that was.

“Yeah.” Yuri shifted so that he could sit next to Flynn on the bed, but didn’t look directly at him. “I, uh…after I moved to Dahngrest, I had the post office filter out all the mail I got from Zaphias.”

“Why?” Again, Yuri got the sense Flynn was asking just to ask, not because he didn’t know the answer already. Or perhaps he just wanted Yuri to admit it out loud.

After a moment and a breath, he did. “Because I was an idiot,” he said, softly. “And a coward.”

Flynn hummed. “You thought, perhaps, that if I received no correspondence from you, I’d let you go. That you’d be able to leave me…untarnished.”

“Yeah.” Yuri sighed. “Or maybe it just made it easier for me not to have to confront things. You know. Since we already established that I don’t know shit when it comes to my feelings.”

Flynn blinked at him, then looked away. Yuri leaned a little closer, and saw that the letter Flynn was holding wasn’t just any letter. It was the last one he’d written to Yuri, the one with only three lines.

Guilt settled heavy as a stone in his gut. His entire being dreaded asking, but Yuri knew he had to know. “Flynn, when you were...um. Being held captive.” He took a breath. “You didn’t…I mean. You didn’t really think I hated you, right?”

Flynn didn’t answer immediately; just continued to look down at the letter in his hand. From his spot on the floor, Repede whined and placed his head down on his paws. Then, very slowly, Flynn folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, which was at once not an answer, and more than answer enough.

Silence descended in the room. Yuri watched the slump of Flynn’s shoulders, the way he allowed the letter to drop back into the bag at his feet before very deliberately placing his hands on his thighs. The magnitude of what he’d done finally seemed to settle on him, heavier even than the weight of the entire world when he’d first set out for Tarqaron so long ago. That last bit of hope, the final little corner of his heart that still desperately believed that Flynn had still had faith in him during his captivity, flickered and went out.

“Flynn.” Yuri swallowed and scooted closer. He reached out to touch Flynn, but it was like all of a sudden he didn’t know what to do with the space between them, the guilt of what he’d done making everything seem suddenly awkward and alien. In the end, he only licked his lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I just.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m really, really sorry.”

The brush of calloused fingers over his cheek surprised him, and when he opened his eyes again he saw Flynn watching him, and the unbridled tenderness in his eyes made something warm rush through Yuri’s veins that was at once unfamiliar and utterly thrilling.

“I know you are,” Flynn said after a moment. There was nothing but forgiveness in his voice, the same soft, fond tone he always used back in Zaphias whenever he patched Yuri up after another inevitable fight, his smile exasperated but his touch nothing but affectionate.

“And like I said,” Flynn continued, not looking away, “it doesn’t matter now.”

Yuri understood. For better or for worse, things had changed between them. Maybe it happened four days ago, when Yuri found Flynn dying in the woods. Or maybe it was before that, sometime over the long years of separation and longing.

Or perhaps it had begun even before that, in a little town named after hope, when Flynn had taken a chance and set them firmly, inevitably, on the narrow, winding path that could only ever have brought them here, to this point, together.

Yuri swallowed and brought his hand up, placing it over Flynn’s and pressing his warm palm more firmly against his cheek. Flynn’s smile softened, and Yuri looked into his eyes and finally let the emotions rise up, a warm flare in his heart as he realized the pure, terrifying depth of the love he had for this man. He hadn’t earned Flynn’s forgiveness, not in the last three years, but here, today, they could start over. Not a new page, or even a new chapter, but a whole different story, beginning with this very moment.

Licking his lips, he reached forward. Saw Flynn respond, leaning closer to erase that final distance—

“ _I got it!_ ”

The door flew open with a bang like a gunshot. They both responded more on reflex than anything else, Flynn startling sideways with a cry of surprise and landing rather unceremoniously on his ass on the floor, and Yuri doing a mad half-scramble for the nearest weapon which ended up only getting him tangled up in the bedsheets. From his new prison of white linen, he glared up at the new arrival. “Rita.”

She either didn’t sense the murderous intent in his voice, or simply ignored it, because the young mage paid him absolutely no heed, crossing the room to grab Flynn and haul him to up with surprising strength, ignoring his indignant squawk. “Come on!” she cried, grabbing the crutches and shoving them at him. “You think I’ve got all day?”

“Uh…” Flynn’s gaze darted between her and Yuri as he regarded Rita with the same dubiousness Yuri had seen him direct at monsters he’d never encountered before. “What…?”

“No more stupid questions!” Rita snapped. She walked back over to the open door and stood next to it, arms crossed expectantly. “Well? You coming or not?”

Flynn held the crutches to his chest with one hand, almost as if unconsciously using them as a barrier between himself and the obviously crazy woman. Then, almost involuntarily, he looked at Yuri.

Yuri sighed and disentangled himself from the bedsheets. As much as he wanted to pick up where he and Flynn had left off, they wouldn’t be able to get rid of Rita in her state; it’d take less effort to repel a hurricane. And if Rita was this excited, it must mean she had come up with something that would help Flynn. That, in itself, was more than urgent enough. Everything else could wait.

It took a bit more effort than he was comfortable with, but he found his mask of nonchalance and slipped it on, old and familiar. “All right,” he said, flapping a hand casually at them both. “Let’s go see it then.”

Flynn still looked a little uncertain, but at least he placed the crutches under his arms without further protest and started across the room. Yuri spared a glance at Repede. The dog gave another great yawn before contorting around to lick his own crotch.

Yuri rolled his eyes, grabbed his sword, and followed them out of the room.

Everyone else was already gathered in the room downstairs: Estelle, Karol, Judith and Raven. The princess ran over to them as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Flynn!” she cried, “Are you okay? Do I need to heal you?”

Flynn opened his mouth to reply, but Rita beat him to it. “Of course he’s fine, Estelle—he’s walking around, isn’t he?” She approached them and offered something up. “And with this, his movement’ll be even better.”

They all looked down at the contraption in her hands. What looked like a long metal pole took up about a foot and a half, polished to a brilliant shine with a rubber slide on the bottom not unlike the ones on Flynn’s crutches. The top of the device was much more complicated, though: a collection of screws, springs and metalwork that formed an almost cup-shape and extended into a tube made of some soft, rubbery substance.

Everyone just contemplated the contraption in silence for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. After a moment, Rita ran out of patience. “Well?” she said, crossing her arms. “What do you think?”

“It’s, uh.” Estelle cast around for some help; when none was forthcoming, she tried on a smile. “It’s very…complex.”

“What’s it for?” Yuri asked, and barely managed to restrain the annoyance in his voice. If he and Flynn had been interrupted for this…

Rita rolled her eyes. “You all remember Barbos, right?”

“Yeah, who couldn’t?” Karol said.

Rita nodded. “Well, you remember his hand? How he replaced it with that hook thing? And then I got to thinking about some of those robots we ran into at Zaude, with their metal limbs. Turns out the Soul Smiths have some copies of the blueprints for those guys, so I used them as a reference and built this.” She straightened up, face flushed with pride. “I call it a _prosthesis_. The metal part makes up the majority of the limb, while the top parts form the socket and the liner. So what do you think? Cool, huh?”

Judith tilted her head. “It’s…like a replacement leg?”

Raven hummed and touched his chin. “I heard o’ similar devices used on injured soldiers durin’ the Great War,” he mused, “but they wore out easily, and weren’t nearly as refined as this. Leave it to our Rita.”

“So I…wear it?” Flynn asked. The dubiousness from before hadn’t faded.

“No, you put it in a dress and you dance with it. Of _course_ you wear it!” Rita snapped, walking up to him and reaching out. “Here, lift up and—”

The instant her hand went near his leg, Flynn startled, stumbling back on his crutches. He would have fallen if Yuri hadn’t been there, one hand at the base of Flynn’s spine steadying him. “Whoa, easy.”

He didn’t have to look to know Flynn was freaked. The tension all along the man’s spine, the way his muscles were drawn tight beneath Yuri’s fingers, was more than evidence enough. Yuri looked up and saw that everyone was watching them, worried. Rita, at least, had the sense to look chagrined. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Yuri stepped forward and smoothly took the prosthesis from unresisting fingers. He then waved her away. “Thanks, I got this.” Turning to the others, he said, “What’re you looking at?”

Judith, Karol and Raven suddenly became very interested in discussing the latest guild business. Estelle took Rita by the arm and motioned to the door. “Why don’t you tell me more about this device of yours outside?” she said, as they exited the room.

Yuri and Flynn were left in their own private bubble in the corner of the room. Yuri motioned to a nearby chair. “Sit,” he said.

The way Flynn obeyed without protest showed just how shaken he was. Blue eyes followed Yuri’s every movement as he set the prosthesis on the table, knelt down, and started to roll up Flynn’s pant leg.

His fingers bumped against the flesh underneath and Flynn flinched, reaching out almost instinctively to wrap a shaking hand around Yuri’s wrist. “Don’t…”

Yuri stopped his movements and looked up into Flynn’s eyes, dark with anxiety and shame. Impulsively, he took Flynn’s hand and brushed his lips across the knuckles, smiling at the soft intake of breath that evoked. “Just relax,” he said. “You trust me, right?”

Flynn bit his lip, but nodded without hesitation. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath as Yuri’s fingers brushed over his stump, but Yuri decided to let it slide. Baby steps.

He expected to have to negotiate the contraption, but Rita had made it surprisingly user-friendly: the stump slid right into the socket, liner snugly gripping skin, and a click and a whirr announced everything was in place. Yuri pulled the pant leg back down, smoothing out the wrinkles, and stood up. “Okay.”

The conversation at the other end of the room stopped, ruse over. Flynn opened his eyes and looked up at Yuri, who smiled and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

He heard a collective breath taken across the room as Flynn reached out but he ignored it, instead wrapping his fingers firmly around Flynn’s own and tugging him slowly to his feet. Flynn teetered a little at first as he tried to find his balance, but Yuri just kept his hold on him steady and didn’t say a word. He felt Flynn squeeze his hand gratefully in response.

The first step was awkward and halting, and Yuri had to bite down against the urge to help as Flynn stumbled sideways, the prosthesis not yet used to taking his weight, and bumped his hip against the table. The second step, however, was more sure, and the third even more so. By the time Flynn finally made it to the other side of the room with little more than a couple of minor bumps along the way, Yuri had never been more grateful that Flynn was both a fast learner and far too stubborn for his own good.

Judith apparently shared the sentiment, because the smile she sent them both was genuine and affectionate in a way she rarely was. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“A little stiff,” Flynn admitted, hobbling around the table, “but I think…I think it’ll get better with practice.”

Raven nodded. “Ya shouldn’t keep it on too long in the beginnin’,” he said. “The guys I’ve seen wearin’ things like that would get bruises if they pushed themselves too hard. Just sayin’.”

“Although that thing Rita added at the top of it…the liner, right?” Karol said. “I think that’s supposed to cushion everything.”

“Yes,” Flynn said, “there certainly doesn’t seem to be too much discomfort.”

“Even so,” Raven said, “ya probably shouldn’t—”

But they never got to hear the rest of his advice, because the front door flew open and Estelle ran in, expression distinctly stressed. She paused, though, when she saw Flynn standing up. “Oh, I’m so glad it worked! But does it hurt? Should I—no, wait!” She shook her head as if clearing it of superficial matters. “There’s someone here to see you, Flynn. You need to come outside; it’s important.”

A brief, surprised silence settled in the room. Yuri knew what the others were thinking: the only people who had any interest in Flynn right now were Alexei’s loyalists, a fact that didn’t bode well for anybody. His gaze met Flynn’s almost instinctively, and Yuri’s fingers tightened around his sword. This couldn’t be good.

Across the room, Flynn nodded at him, almost imperceptibly. When he turned to Estelle and said, “Please lead the way,” his voice was resigned. Yuri made sure to be only a step behind him as, together, they exited the building.

The first thing that struck Yuri the instant they stepped outside was all the soldiers. The entirety of Estelle’s escort platoon seemed to be gathered in the street in front of Brave Vesperia’s headquarters, and beyond them Yuri thought there might have been an entire cavalry unit, quiettas whickering and scraping their hooves against the cobblestone. All in all, there had to be between fifty and a hundred people gathered. The sight gave Yuri a simultaneous sense of both relief and dread: relief because the soldiers obviously had nothing to do with Alexei, and dread because their sheer numbers implied something bad was about to go down.

Rita was standing next to their leader, a single man seated on a quietta at the front of the small army. She seemed just as confused as they were. Upon seeing them, the man dismounted from his quietta and walked forward. He had short brown hair cut neatly to regulation, and his eyes were professional and determined, an officer through and through. Yuri didn’t have to look at the medals and the Commandant insignia to know who he was. The way Flynn stiffened in front of him in surprise was more than enough.

“Lucius,” Flynn said, softly.

Lucius Adifer came to a stop before them, shoulders squared. He swept his gaze over the group, lingering on Yuri a little longer than the others, before finally returning to Flynn. When he spoke, his voice was deep and commanding, someone to respect and to follow.

“Flynn Scifo,” he said, and his words rang out down the street, “You are wanted on charges of treason, divulging state secrets, and plotting to assassinate the imperial heir. In the name of His Highness and our glorious Empire, I am here to arrest you.”

Silence fell. Yuri stared at Adifer, not even bothering to conceal his shock. That motherfucking…and after he’d said all that crap in his letter…

He glanced sideways at Estelle, but she looked just as lost, green eyes wide with concern and disbelief. So she hadn’t known either. Yuri curled his fingers around the handle of his sword, so tightly the knuckles turned white. Well, if they thought he was going to let Flynn go without a fight, they had another thing coming. He’d already almost lost Flynn once, and Yuri would be damned if he did it again, no matter what their numbers.

Beside him, Flynn shifted just enough so that he was partially blocking Yuri from Adifer’s view. The message was clear: _Let me handle this._ Then he looked at Adifer and very deliberately tilted his head. “You brought a lot of soldiers for just one man.”

Adifer’s gaze slid to Yuri. “We know the company you keep,” he said, voice steady.

Oh, that was _it_. Yuri stepped forward, fully ready to sink his fist right into Adifer’s stupid, soldierly face and damn the miniature army behind him, but all of a sudden Flynn’s fingers wrapped tight around his wrist, hard and firm as steel cords. He didn’t look at Yuri, but an instant later Yuri felt the pad of Flynn’s index finger draw a line across his skin. His body reacted to the signal even before his brain did, and he stopped dead.

When they were younger, Yuri got into a lot of trouble. It was just his nature, his need to stand up to injustice and his inability to let anything alone getting him into more scrapes and squabbles than either of them would have preferred. Mostly he could talk his way out of the sticky situations he got into, and even when that didn’t work, he could usually hold his own in a fight. But sometimes, when the going got _really_ dangerous, when it became not just a matter of a few bruises and some wounded pride but the actual threat of someone sinking a knife into his gut, that was when Flynn would step in, containing Yuri with that one simple gesture of a finger across his wrist. Yuri couldn’t remember when they’d first adopted that little signal, but Flynn only ever used it in dire situations when he really needed Yuri to just _shut the fuck up_ and let him handle things. And after years of Flynn bailing him out of one troublesome situation after another, Yuri had learned to trust that little hand gesture more than any barked order from a commanding officer.

Yuri took a breath and didn’t move. He very rarely listened to Flynn, years of friendship and camaraderie making him apt to push Flynn’s buttons more often than not just to see his reaction. But this one simple gesture clearly conveyed that Flynn _needed_ him to cooperate right now, and Yuri always knew when to follow orders when it counted.

Flynn continued to keep his gaze fixed on Adifer who, after seeing he wasn’t going to get a rise out of Yuri, returned the look. Yuri wished he could tell what was going through Flynn’s head because he could practically hear the gears turning. With nothing more than the warmth of Flynn’s fingers around his wrist, though, he could only take deep breaths and force himself to remain calm.

After another moment, Flynn finally straightened. When he addressed Adifer, it was with a voice just this side of authoritative, a hint of his former status as Commandant leaking through as he said, “This is too private a matter for a discussion out in the open. Let’s take it inside.”

Yuri expected Adifer to object; after all, his only protection was lined up behind him, and there was no way they would all fit into a building. But Adifer didn’t even hesitate. “I think that’s fair,” he said. Turning, he barked a couple of quick orders to the rest of the soldiers to stay put, before nodding at Flynn. “Lead the way.”

Releasing his grip on Yuri’s wrist, Flynn turned and hobbled back toward Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. Yuri followed, making sure to keep himself between Flynn and Adifer at all times. The new arrival, for his part, didn’t seem particularly perturbed or even worried. In fact, after they’d shuffled into the building and Judith had carefully shut the door behind them, his expression showed a certain amount of relief.

“Sir,” he said, and Yuri blinked at the ease with which the cloak of command came off as Adifer stepped forward and bowed. “My deepest apologies for the display out there. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Flynn answered, quick and easy as Yuri stared. “We don’t know where Alexei’s eyes and ears might be stationed in this city. Your plan was sound, Lucius.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Wait.” Karol tilted his head, confused. “What’s going on?”

“I expect Mr. Adifer here isn’t actually going to arrest Flynn,” Judith volunteered.

Yuri frowned. “So all that talk out there was just an act?” In which case, he had to hand it to Adifer. His performance had been impeccable.

“Not entirely, I’d expect,” Flynn answered.

“Yes.” Lucius rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. “The Council has indeed issued a warrant for your arrest. But if I may be so bold, sir, they’re a bunch of roaring fucktards, sir.”

Yuri couldn’t contain his smile. Okay, he kind of liked this guy.

Flynn smiled too. “I won’t disagree with you there,” he said, before sliding his gaze to Estelle. “No offense intended, of course, Lady Estellise.”

Estelle just shrugged. Flynn turned back to Adifer. “So tell me the real reason you’re here, Lucius.”

“Yes, sir.” Adifer pulled a scroll seemingly from out of nowhere and spread it out on the nearest table. Leaning closer, Yuri could see that it was a detailed map of Tolbyccia, and several points had been circled: the Manor of the Wicked, Caer Bocram, and a couple of random places that Yuri knew were nothing but patchy forest.

“I’ve had our intelligence division working overtime in this area, trying to map out the dissident group’s movements,” Adifer continued, fingers tracing the map with practiced precision. “You probably already know that they’re based at the Manor, but supply lines cut through several checkpoints throughout Tolbyccia, and we believe a sizeable group holds gatherings at Caer Bocram as well.”

He then tapped Capua Torim, Nor just barely visible off the edge of the map. “Right now we have no reason to believe that they’ve established any permanent bases on Ilyccia, but there was another attempt on His Highness Ioder’s life yesterday. This one was less organized than the last, so we have reason to believe they may be getting desperate.”

Flynn nodded. “You want to strike while they may be vulnerable.”

“Yes. Wipe them off the map for good.” Adifer looked at Flynn. “But we’ll need your help, sir.”

Flynn hummed thoughtfully. “Bait,” he said after a moment, and Adifer nodded.

“There’s no better setup for those dissidents than having the former Commandant, the current Commandant, _and_ the Zaphian princess all in the same place at the same time,” he said. “We’d draw them out for sure.”

“And all those soldiers out there would serve as backup?”

“Yes…” Adifer sounded less sure of himself when he saw Flynn’s frown. “What is it, sir?”

Flynn shook his head. “It’s too obvious,” he said, and as Yuri watched the calmness settle over him, the ease with which he planned and strategized, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. _This_ was the Flynn he remembered. This Flynn was not a broken shell, but instead a grown man, a leader and a guide and someone worthy of respect.

“You remember what I said before, about you bringing a lot of soldiers for just one man? You’ve got Lady Estellise’s escort platoon, plus two squads and that extra cavalry patrol. No rebel group, no matter how fanatical, is going to approach us when we’ve got that much manpower. We need to cut down.”

The way Adifer nodded, agreeing but not complacent, showed that he both retained faith in Flynn yet was actively strategizing on his own. Yuri allowed himself a brief moment of unbridled respect for the man; if Flynn would not be able to return to his former position, Yuri had a feeling Lucius Adifer would be able to fill in for him quite well.

“So one squad then?” Adifer said. “And two mounted escorts to keep up the ruse?”

Flynn frowned. “I get the feeling even that might be too much. Perhaps—”

Yuri stepped forward. “We could go.”

Both Flynn and Adifer turned to look at him. Adifer seemed surprised, but Flynn’s face held no real expression at all. Yuri squared his shoulders. “We’d look pretty harmless, right? Three guild members, a dog, a researcher, and a retired soldier. Easy pickings.”

Adifer hummed. “Well, you’d certainly look like a target,” he conceded, “although I’m not sure how I feel about not assigning _any_ soldiers to the mission. Especially since Lady Estellise will be traveling with us.”

“I know how to use a sword,” Estelle interjected, indignant.

Flynn quickly intervened. “We can set up a single squad to guard our rear,” he said, “but any more than that and they might not show.”

Adifer tapped his lip, then finally nodded. “All right,” he said. “We’ll have to leave immediately, though. Any delays may arouse suspicion.”

“Agreed.” Flynn ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the prosthesis he was wearing. Then he sighed, sounding resigned. “I’ll need a quietta.” The admission came out reluctant and just this side of ashamed, and it took all Yuri had not to reach out to him.

Adifer, to his credit, didn’t even pause. “Of course,” he said, “I’ll have one prepared. And if I may say so, sir…” His voice dropped and his expression grew soft. “I’m really glad you’re okay, sir. We all are.”

Flynn nodded, then smiled. When he spoke, though, he looked only at Yuri. “So am I,” he said, and Yuri knew, then and there, that they were going to be okay.

They left a few minutes later, after Adifer had dispersed the rest of the troops. Adifer and Yuri, who had been granted a quietta of his own, rode in front. Behind them Flynn and Estelle were flanked on both sides by Raven, Judith and Repede, with Rita and Karol bringing up the rear. An additional squad, Yuri knew, would be following them at a distance. If trouble happened, they’d respond to the flare tucked in Adifer’s belt.

The Commandant hadn’t said much since they’d left Dahngrest, and Yuri hadn’t felt inclined to start a conversation, preferring instead to keep his attention on the forest around them, looking for signs of attack. After about twenty minutes of travel, however, Adifer finally shook out his gauntlets, patted his quietta lightly on the side of her neck, and turned to Yuri. “So what was it like?” he asked.

Yuri blinked, turning from where he’d been eyeing the nearby bushes to look at him. “What was what like?”

“Saving the world.”

Yuri must have made some sort of face at that because in the next moment Adifer smiled. “Yeah, I know, no one was supposed to know, right? But you know how Flynn gets when he’s had a few drinks in him.”

Yuri couldn’t help but shake his head then. “Yeah, I know.” Alcohol opened Flynn up like a key to a treasure chest. In fact, pretty much all the blackmail material Yuri had on Flynn had been obtained when they’d been inebriated.

He waved his hand. “It was okay, I guess. Most days I try not to think about it.”

Adifer shook his head. “Flynn told me you might say something like that,” he said, and his voice grew soft. “He thinks quite highly of you, Yuri. I can see why.”

“Yeah, well.” Yuri looked down at his hands, wrapped in the quietta’s reins. “He’s biased.”

“I’m sure.”

They continued on in silence for a few more moments before Adifer shifted in his seat. “He changed after Tarqaron, you know,” he said, thoughtfully, as if he were just talking to himself. “Before, he’d never shut up about you, would just go on and on until I thought the other soldiers were going to stage a goddamned mutiny. But after…he never said a word. No one knows why, but whenever someone brought up you or your guild, it was like this wall fell into place in front of him or something. I couldn’t read him at all, and _that_ was pretty alarming.”

Yuri swallowed. “Yeah?” he managed after a moment.

If Adifer noticed his discomfort, he chose to ignore it and continued, “Yeah. Only got him to talk about it once, and that was after clearing out half the bar in the barracks. And all I could get out of him was that you were apparently his greatest regret.”

The words stung, so much so that Yuri lost his breath for a moment. No matter how things were between them now, the truth was that, at one moment in time, Flynn had believed Yuri despised him. He could only hope that, given time and a second chance, he could mend that final break between them.

Nudging his quietta just a little closer, Adifer tilted his head. “I realize it’s none of my business,” he said, “but I can’t help but wonder what happened.”

The way he said it was carefully neutral, asking for information yet still giving Yuri an out of he wanted it. After a moment, he realized he didn’t. Flynn trusted Adifer, that much was obvious, and if Flynn trusted him, then Yuri could too.

He took a breath, then let it out. At last, he said, “I did something stupid.”

Adifer hummed. “Would that be an I-forgot-a-birthday stupid, or an I-accidentally-started-a-war stupid?”

Yuri smiled despite himself, but it was fleeting. He glanced briefly at Adifer, but then returned his gaze to his hands. “It was, uh…an I-denied-him-something-we-both-wanted stupid.”

Adifer didn’t answer immediately. Yuri very deliberately kept his eyes on the road in front of him. Behind them, Raven said something that made everyone laugh, and pathetic though it was, Yuri found he could exactly pick out the timber of Flynn’s chuckle over the others.

At last, Adifer straightened in the saddle. “And what about now?” he asked.

Yuri shrugged. “We’re working on it.” Which was as honest an answer as he could give.

“Good.”

He blinked and looked at Adifer. The smile the soldier gave him then was easy and genuine. “I hear you were once in the Knights, so you probably know this,” he said, “but for soldiers, the most important thing isn’t the weapon you hold or how much manpower you have. It’s having someone to go home to. And maybe that’s a lover, or a friend, or hell, even a goddamned parakeet, but if a soldier deploys in the field without that anchor, then he’s got no reason to stay alive.”

Adifer paused and settled his gaze ahead of them, eyes growing sad. “For a long time, I got the sense Flynn didn’t have anyone like that. And yeah, after the Great War…a lot of us wound up orphans, but most of us eventually found new families, building our relationships from the ground up. But Flynn…I can’t explain it. It’s like he keeps everyone at a distance without meaning to, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Everyone, that is, except you.”

Yuri swallowed. “Yeah?” he said, just for something to say.

Adifer nodded. “I never met you before today,” he said, “but I’d heard all the stories, you know? About all the trouble you got into in the capital, all the crimes you were wanted for. But hearing Flynn talk about you, it was so difficult to equate that with the criminal who bore your name, and eventually I realized you’re the only person Flynn ever _defends_. Sure, he protects those who are weak, and he supports anyone who seeks his assistance. But when it comes to faith…you’re the only one Flynn has ever seemed to really _believe_ in.”

Yuri didn’t know what to say to that. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what Judith had said, about how Flynn had tried to make his way to Dahngrest despite all the odds and the injuries he’d sustained. Despite Yuri’s silence, three years of rejection and indifference, Flynn had still tried to reach him. Despite everything, Flynn had still had faith.

Yuri bit his lip and turned back to look at Flynn. In retrospect, that was probably the best decision he ever made, not because it magically brought everything into perspective, but because it allowed him to see the movement in the bushes an instant before everything went to hell.

“ _Flynn!_ ” He kicked his quietta into gear just as the first arrow shot out from the forest. He saw Flynn startle, saw his eyes widen, and Yuri reacted without thinking, drawing his sword from its sheath and throwing it forward—

Metal hit metal with a loud _ping!_ as the arrow hit his blade, both weapons falling harmlessly to the grass. Flynn cursed and drew his sword, spinning his quietta to meet Yuri as he pulled up. “Whoa—thanks!”

“Careful, Flynn,” Yuri said, flashing him a smirk, “Can’t protect you all the time!”

Flynn’s undoubtedly indignant response was lost in a wave of _zings_ as a round of fresh arrows burst through the trees. “Estelle!” Yuri cried, but the princess was already ahead of him, erecting a forcefield around them in a luminous blue glow. As arrows bounced off the barrier, Yuri spun on his quietta, peering into the woods. It was no use, though; he could discern nothing but moving shadows, even as arrows continued to fly out at them on all sides.

Adifer pulled up alongside them. “We need to get rid of the archers!” he shouted, and Flynn nodded.

“It’s the only way we’ll get the rest of them to show,” he said, spinning his sword with effortless grace. The ease and familiarity of the movement made something warm and hopeful rise in Yuri’s throat.

Standing next to them, Raven placed a hand over his blastia heart. “Leave that to me,” he said, as a glowing glyph gathered on the ground beneath him. “ _Wind Blade!_ ”

The concentrated blast of wind ripped through the trees, and Yuri didn’t even have to look: the resulting screams were more than enough. The arrows stopped coming. Estelle dropped the forcefield. “Is that all of them?” she asked.

Repede growled, tail sticking straight up in the air as his entire body tensed. Judith narrowed her eyes, rotating her spear. “I doubt it,” she said.

She was right. The forest shuddered and released what looked like a couple dozen people, rushing them with weapons raised. Yuri felt excitement surge through him at the sight, the anticipation of the battle coursing through him as natural as adrenaline. He was no warmonger, but he always enjoyed a good fight—and now the enemies were on his level.

He slid off his quietta and looked at Flynn. “What do you think? Should we keep score like usual?”

Flynn smirked, easy and familiar. “If you don’t mind losing,” he said.

Yuri grinned and snatched his sword up from the grass. “Oh, you’re on,” he said, and spun around just in time to parry the first blow.

Chaos couldn’t even begin to describe the battle. As Yuri ducked an axe swing and kicked his opponent away, he saw out of the corner of his eye Estelle and Rita back-to-back, chain and sword dancing in the sunlight. Behind them Judith, Karol and Adifer were all in the midst of their own battles while Repede darted between them quick as a hummingbird, blade flashing deadly in every direction. Raven aimed and shot his arrows with more smooth precision than a machine, and nearby Flynn was holding his own perfectly well, spinning his quietta and striking out with his sword.

Still, it didn’t take long for Yuri to realize they were outnumbered. The enemy continued pouring out from the forest in seemingly endless waves, and after beating down the fifth sword-swinging fanatic in as many minutes, Yuri kicked him away and spun toward Adifer.

He needn’t have worried, though; the Commandant already had the flare out. “Clear!” he shouted, and pulled the trigger. A glowing arc of smoky light sprang into the air, curving over their heads like the brightest of meteors.

Across the way, Karol smashed his hammer into the ground, sending his opponents flying out with the shockwave. Then he turned, peering up at the arc of the flare as it flickered and winked out. “How long’ll it take for the other soldiers to get here?” he called.

Flynn drove his sword into the shoulder of an enemy, then spun his quietta around as the man howled in pain so that the animal’s powerful chest slammed into him, sending him spinning into the dirt. “Two, three minutes tops!” he shouted back. “We just need to— _augh!_ ”

Yuri, who’d been distracted fighting another man, spun around at the sound just in time to see the arrow embed itself in Flynn’s shoulder. The impact knocked him right off the quietta and he slammed into the dirt with a cry, rolling toward a cliff that Yuri knew dropped at least a hundred feet into the ravine below—

Flynn stopped just a few feet short of the drop, gritting his teeth and curling into a ball as he grasped at the arrow. Yuri quickly leaped at the man he was fighting, sinking his fist into the other man’s jaw hard enough that he felt the crunch of teeth against his knuckles, but even the sharp flare of pain that resulted wasn’t enough to distract him as he spun around and sprinted for his friend. “Flynn!”

But he was too far. As if in slow motion, Yuri saw the man Flynn had stabbed earlier rise from the ground, grabbing his sword and lifting it with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, intending to cut Flynn down, to kill the only person who ever _mattered_ to Yuri in this whole fucking world—

He didn’t think. Just hurled himself forward and slammed his body into the other man’s, spun him away from Flynn, felt a flash of searing agony as the blade slid into his side but Yuri didn’t care, Flynn was safe, Flynn was—

And then all of a sudden they were falling, nothing but air and oh god, he’d forgotten about the cliff, they’d _gone over the fucking cliff_ and he was falling with the echoes of Flynn screaming his name, and all Yuri could think was _I’m sorry._

Then he hit his head on something hard, and everything disappeared.

 

“…uri? Yuri!”

The high-pitched shout dragged Yuri from the depths of unconsciousness, cobwebs clinging to the edges of his vision as he slowly eased his eyes open. Immediately he regretted it as light stabbed his sensitive eyeballs, and it took a moment for him to realize that the tiny pained sound he’d just heard was coming from himself.

From the blurry mess of light before him, Estelle’s face gradually resolved, green eyes bright with worry. Everything was glowing, and even through the fuzziness of his brain Yuri realized she must be healing him.

“Yuri?” Estelle called again. “Can you hear me? Yuri!”

She sounded distant and far away, her voice muted and strange as if she were speaking to him underwater. Yuri winced, tried to move his arm—immediately he regretted it as pain tore through his nerves. He barely contained his scream.

“Whoa, easy,” said a new voice, and Yuri squinted up as Raven’s face also resolved itself from the blur. He looked worried, and vaguely Yuri wondered whether he’d ever seen that particular expression on the older man’s face before. He didn’t think so. Raven didn’t seem the type to worry much, anyway. Probably did wonders for his complexion…

“Hey.” Raven waved a hand before him, making Yuri dizzy. “Ya with us, son?”

Yuri coughed. “Flynn…?” His voice came out wrecked, and even producing that one word made his throat feel like he was rubbing two bricks together. Also, the wetness that gathered at the back of his mouth when he talked probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Flynn’s fine,” Raven answered. “Adifer and the others are lookin’ after ‘im. You should worry more ‘bout yerself.”

Yuri barely caught the last part of what he’d said, holding on instead to those first two words: _Flynn’s fine._ And despite the pain in his body, despite how it felt like all his internal organs were trying to claw their way out of him with every movement, Yuri felt relief rush through his veins more powerful than any painkiller. Flynn was okay. This time, Yuri had saved him.

“Yuri?” Estelle’s voice, but she sounded distant again, and was fading rapidly. “Yuri, no, stay with us!”

But he couldn’t. He was so tired. But that was okay, since he had saved Flynn. If Flynn was okay, then Yuri could rest. _Just for a little while, and then I’ll check on him_ , he told himself as the darkness rushed in again, like a lover’s familiar embrace. _Just for a moment…_

 

The next time Yuri awoke, it was because a cold, wet nose pushed into his face, accompanied by a blast of rancid dog breath. He groaned. “Repede, stop—”

And then a huge paw landed right on his gut and Yuri yelped, springing up and shoving Repede away. “Ow! _Easy!_ ”

Repede for his part didn’t seem particularly guilty because he just sat back, looking up at Yuri as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and his tail thumped against the hardwood floor. Yuri sighed and shook his head to clear it, taking a moment to examine his surroundings. It didn’t take him long to realize he was in his room on the second floor of Brave Vesperia’s headquarters, with the last vestiges of sunlight just beginning to fade out through the window. They must have brought him back to Dahngrest while he’d been unconscious.

From his spot on the floor, Repede gave a soft bark, tail wagging so hard it wiggled his entire body, happy and excited in a way Yuri hadn’t seen since he’d been a puppy. Smiling, he reached out and immediately found himself with an armful of dog, Repede licking at his face with little wuffs of happiness. Yuri ran a hand down the dog’s back. “Yeah, boy. I’m glad I’m awake too.”

He wondered if this was the way Repede had greeted Flynn when he’d first woken up—and just like that, his mind found new purpose, like everything inside him suddenly shifted a notch sideways before clicking into place. He needed to see Flynn.

Repede must have sensed his thoughts because the dog retreated off the bed, circling once before heading over to stand by the door. He looked back at Yuri expectantly, single eye bright, and Yuri nodded.

He felt no pain as he stood, beyond a small ache in his side like he sometimes felt when he’d been running for too long. When Yuri examined the area, he found a fresh new scar, roughly an inch in length and just the size of the blade the man had sunk into him an instant before they’d gone over the cliff. When he compared that to the jagged new scar on his wrist, Yuri couldn’t help but shake his head. He’d acquired more fresh injuries in the last week than he had in the past three years, but that was what happened when he finally had someone worth protecting.

Still, Estelle had done a hell of a job; Yuri didn’t want to think about what he’d looked like when they’d first found him at the bottom of the cliff, but he could move without pain and everything seemed to be working fine. It looked as if, just like Flynn, Yuri now owed the princess his life. Maybe, when this was all over, they could pitch in and get her a fruit basket or something.

But first things first. Dressing quickly, Yuri nodded at Repede. Together, they headed out the door.

The lobby of the building was a lively bustle when Yuri finally made it down the stairs. Judith, Raven and Estelle were playing dice at one table, while on the couch next to the door, Rita made some modifications to one of Karol’s axes as the young guildsman watched with half-awe, half-dread. At the other table, Adifer had the map from before spread out, speaking in a hushed voice as his finger traced whatever path he was strategizing about. Next to him, Flynn, who had been following the movement, abruptly stiffened and turned to look at Yuri.

The instant their eyes locked, everything froze. Yuri stared into bright, unending blue and felt something hot and dangerous rise from the very depths of his soul, threatening to consume his entire being in a rampant conflagration. All of a sudden it became very hard to breathe, and he barely noticed when the other conversations in the room ceased. All he could see was Flynn, _his_ Flynn, alive and whole and _beautiful_ , and suddenly even the minute distance between them now was too great, a chasm that ran for miles and dear gods if someone didn’t do _something_ right now then Yuri was going to just walk across that room and grab Flynn and—

Across the room, Judith coughed. “Oh, would you look at the time!” she said, crossing the room and grabbing Karol by the wrist, “I forgot we had to do that _very_ important thing for the person at the place. Right, Karol?”

Karol wrinkled his nose. “What thing? What—”

“Oh yeah, _that_ thing!” Raven said, grabbing the poor teenager by his other wrist. “Right ya are, Judith! We need ta go do that thing right now!” And they dragged Karol out the door, still protesting. Rita huffed out a breath, rolled her eyes, and followed them.

Estelle was next. “Ah, Lucius!” she cried, crossing the room and taking the Commandant by the arm, “There is, um, a very important matter I need to discuss with you. Um, outside.”

Adifer frowned. “Ah, Lady Estellise, I—”

“Very urgent! Extremely so!” Estelle insisted, slowly but surely dragging him toward the door, “Empire business, you know? Gotta go!” And then they were finally out of the room, door slamming shut behind them.

Yuri and Flynn were left alone in a sudden, charged silence. Repede yawned, lay down on the floor, and shut his eye. Yuri barely noticed, continuing to stare at Flynn. He saw now that the other man was shaking, fist clenched at his side, and the heat, the unbridled _want_ in Flynn’s eyes set Yuri’s own body on fire, and then it became impossible not to close that final distance between them.

He didn’t know who moved first but it hardly mattered—Yuri knocked a chair over and Flynn slammed his hip against the table and bit off a curse, but in the end they met in the middle and the instant Flynn’s lips pressed to his own it was like everything finally, finally clicked into place. All the cold, dark spots of Yuri’s soul, all the empty corners of his being that he hadn’t even known were there—it was like Flynn infused them all in that instant, filled them with everything that had been missing before. Yuri couldn’t fight it, just fisted his fingers in the front of Flynn’s shirt and yanked him closer, taking advantage of the way Flynn’s lips parted in surprise to delve in and explore for the first time, and this—this was nothing like Aurnion, this was real and true and fuck but Yuri would _never_ let Flynn go again after this.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, how long they kissed and touched and learned each other in ways they never had before. But when Yuri’s fingers slipped under Flynn’s shirt to press against smooth skin the other man gasped, jerking back. Then he laughed, softly, as his fingers curled in Yuri’s collar. “You’re such an idiot,” Flynn said, as his other hand pressed to Yuri’s side where the new scar was.

Yuri just shrugged, too filled with that warm, wonderful _something_ to be even remotely indignant. “Takes one to know one,” he answered, and when Flynn smiled at that, bright and beautiful, he had to fight back the urge to reach out and kiss him again. And then he realized that he _could_ now, that he’d earned that right, and then he did.

They came up for air again a few minutes later, and Flynn ran his hands through Yuri’s hair, bringing them together so that their foreheads touched. “Damn. I can’t believe you made me wait three years for that,” he whispered, breath warm over Yuri’s skin.

Yuri thought he should feel guilty about that, but looking into Flynn’s eyes and seeing the forgiveness there, he knew that from here on out, he didn’t have to. So instead he just hummed and leaned in to brush his lips once again over Flynn’s. “Guess I have a lot to make up for.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it—not consciously, anyway—so he was suitably surprised when Flynn growled low in the back of his throat and shoved him, backing Yuri up against the table and pressing close so that their bodies lined up neatly from head to toe, not an inch of space between them and wow but _that_ felt nice. Flynn’s eyes were dark, not with anger but something far more welcome. “Damn straight,” he said, and Yuri swallowed, mouth suddenly going dry as parts of him began to take real interest in the situation.

He cleared his throat and managed, “Upstairs?”

Flynn nodded, one hand bracketing Yuri’s hip. “Unless you’d rather we got down to business right here?”

The pure _promise_ behind his voice made heat flare up in Yuri’s body, flames of anticipation licking through his nerves through all his extremities. Flynn always had the _best_ ideas.

“Upstairs is good,” Yuri said, and grabbed Flynn’s hand, ignoring his laughter as he dragged them both up toward his bedroom.

Some time later, after they’d thoroughly christened every inch of Yuri’s room—and part of the upstairs hallway as well, Flynn being the impatient bastard that he was—Yuri turned and nuzzled at the back of Flynn’s neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin. “Fuck. That was _awesome_.”

Flynn chuckled, grasping for Yuri’s hand and brushing his lips over the knuckles. “Sure beats our usual way of solving disputes.”

“Yeah, if this is the way it’s gonna be then we’ll have to fight more often.”

“Or you could surrender.”

“You’d have to force me.”

“That can be arranged.”

Yuri laughed, squeezing Flynn’s hand before releasing it and brushing his fingers over Flynn’s hip instead. “You always have to have the last word?”

“Only with you,” Flynn answered. “Otherwise you’d never shut u—ah, no, Yuri…”

He grabbed for Yuri’s wrist, but Yuri leaned over and kissed him, slow and gentle. “Let me,” he whispered, as his fingers brushed over the roughened skin of Flynn’s stump. “Please.” Even in the midst of some truly mind-blowing sex, Flynn hadn’t let him touch it, hadn’t let him anywhere near it.

Now he flinched, ducking away to hide his face. “I can’t…Yuri…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Yuri said, laying his palm on the scabbed-over skin, feeling the shudder that wracked Flynn’s body at the touch. “It’s a part of you now, Flynn.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Flynn whispered, shaky, on a breath. “It’s gone, it’s broken…”

“No.” Yuri pulled Flynn close, burying his nose in soft blond hair. “It’s _you_ , Flynn. And there isn’t…” He sighed; he’d never been good at this. “There isn’t a single part of you that I don’t love. Okay?”

Flynn didn’t answer, but the slight hitch in his breath indicated he’d heard. And though he remained tense as Yuri’s fingers continued tracing the webbed scarring, after a while, the shaking subsided somewhat.

Yuri pressed another kiss to the nape of his neck. “You okay?”

Flynn nodded, forcing out a breath as Yuri’s fingers danced over the stump one last time. “Yeah. Y’know, if you’re done feeling me up.”

“That an invitation?”

“A promise.” Flynn shifted then, turning so that he could face Yuri. When he reached out to cup Yuri’s face, there was nothing but warm affection in his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured then, soft, like a secret.

Warmth dripped down Yuri’s spine at the words, and he ducked his head and smiled. Despite everything, this was the first time he’d actually heard Flynn _say_ it. It made him feel powerful, invincible, like he could take on the Adephagos itself without a problem.

Still, it wasn’t like he was about to tell _Flynn_ that. “You’d better,” he answered, as Flynn snorted. “After all the shit I had to put up with? You totally owe me dinner. And a back rub. And possibly another blowj— _mmph_.”

It was obvious Flynn was just trying to shut him up, but Yuri wasn’t about to complain, instead pressing Flynn back against the pillows and delving in with his tongue to explore the now-familiar taste. Flynn groaned, fisting his hands in Yuri’s hair as he rubbed up against Yuri’s thigh, the sensation sending tingles of heat dancing through Yuri’s nerves. Despite the marathon they’d just been through, his body instantly warmed and began clamoring for another round, and he started to slide a hand down to help Flynn out—

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Judith’s voice. “Yuri?”

They both froze. Judith cleared her throat. “Yuri, are you awake? I’d open the door, but I’m not sure what I’ll find.” Her voice lilted up near the end, and Yuri could practically see her smile.

Beneath him, Flynn flushed scarlet even as he chuckled. “You’d better answer that,” he whispered, heaving up to give Yuri one last kiss before sitting up to look for his clothes.

Yuri sighed and obeyed, pausing to pull on a pair of pants before crossing the room and cracking the door open just enough so that he could see Judith standing in the hallway beyond.

The Krityan took a moment to give him a once-over, and whatever she saw in his disheveled, half-naked state made her smirk. “Enjoying your evening?”

“I was.” _Until you came up_ went unsaid.

Judith just laughed. “I’m glad,” she said, and Yuri sensed she wasn’t teasing. “All the same, Kaufman has called a meeting over at the Union headquarters in order to decide on a plan of action concerning those dissidents. She requests both you and Flynn be present, and I, ah…didn’t think it prudent to tell her the real reason why you were unavailable.”

Yuri highly doubted the President of Fortune’s Market—and now of the Union, as of two years ago—would have any sort of opinion about what he and Flynn got up to behind closed doors. Kaufman had always been the kind of person who knew exactly how long her nose was and just how far she should stick it into other people’s business, which was usually not very far as long as they stayed loyal customers. Still, he appreciated the sentiment.

“We’ll be right there,” he said. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” Judith straightened and plucked at her ear. Then her smile grew abruptly soft and fond in a way he rarely saw. “I’m…really glad the two of you finally worked things out.”

The way she said it, gentle and sincere and no-holds-barred, made Yuri want to duck away from her gaze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Judith cocked her head. “I guess you just…you seem _complete_ , you know? Like you finally found something that was missing for a long time.”

Yuri looked away, but couldn’t hide his smile. “That sounds about right.”

Judith watched him for a moment longer, but unlike the other times, Yuri no longer felt like she was gazing into his soul. Rather, it was almost like she was taking a step back and regarding him from an angle she hadn’t tried before. All the same, he tried not to fidget.

Thankfully, Flynn saved him as his voice drifted through the door. “Yuri? Have you seen my belt?”

Judith straightened at his words and smiled. “Well, I should leave you alone to get ready,” she said. “See you there.”

“Okay.” He waited until she reached the top of the stairs to step back and send Flynn his best leering look. “I don’t know. I was a little distracted when I pulled it off you.”

“You’re hilarious. A real goddamned comedi—ah, here it is.” Flynn bent down and snatched the thin length of leather off the floor, hopping a little on his good leg to keep his balance as he turned to face Yuri. “So what did Judith want?”

Yuri shrugged, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that Flynn hadn’t bothered getting dressed yet. Honestly, he’d expected his usually prudish friend to have materialized a full wardrobe by now, but Flynn looked like he hardly cared what Judith happened to see. Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe it showed how comfortable he was with this new direction their relationship had taken.

“Kaufman’s called a Union meeting,” he said. “Apparently we’re supposed to be there.”

Flynn nodded and tapped his chin, which would have appeared regal and sophisticated if not for his current state of undress. “If it’s to discuss Alexei’s loyalists, then that would make sense. How much time do we have?”

“She didn’t say, but I’m sure they’ll be able to entertain themselves for at least another half hour.”

“Good.” Flynn sighed, looking down at himself. “I need a shower.” He paused, then ducked his head with a smile that was all of a sudden just this side of shy and completely endearing. “Ah…care to join me?”

The heat from before abruptly flared back up in Yuri’s veins, like it had never gone away in the first place. He barely managed to keep his voice even. “To save time, of course.”

Flynn’s smile went just this side of wicked. “Of course.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Yuri followed him into the bathroom.

Half an hour actually turned out to be more like forty-five minutes, but they were too lost in each other to care. Even at the Union meeting, Yuri could hardly take his eyes off Flynn, the voices of Kaufman and the other attendees nothing more than an unintelligible buzz in the background as he watched the regal set of Flynn’s shoulder, the sideways fall of his blond hair, the way the collar of his shirt just barely hid the dark red bite mark Yuri had left at the base of his neck.

He wasn’t the only one, though. More than once Flynn turned toward him during the meeting; their gazes met and heat and unimaginable love surged through Yuri’s body so that it was all he could manage not to walk across the room, grab Flynn and kiss him, and Union be damned. From the way Flynn’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink, his friend wasn’t much better off.

In the end, Yuri barely had any idea what they discussed at the meeting. He vaguely caught Kaufman saying something about upping border security, and at one point Adifer suggested sending patrols into the surrounding forest, but other than that he digested nothing. All he could think of was getting Flynn back to his room so that they could shut the world out for a while and enjoy each other again.

He ended up doing just that as soon as the meeting was over. And then again the next morning, and then one more time in Brave Vesperia’s tiny kitchen while everyone else was eating lunch in the lobby. Flynn did seem a little put off by that particular encounter, but personally Yuri thought he didn’t have the right to complain. He wasn’t the one with the rug burn, after all.

Regardless, the next two days passed like a dream. Yuri lost himself in Flynn fully and completely, regaling in finally having been granted this warm, wonderful thing he’d never thought he would be able to have. The matter of Alexei’s loyalists faded into the background, nothing more than a passing worry as they settled into a comfortable shared space, filling each other’s empty cracks and crevices like two puzzle pieces that had been engineered to fit. And whenever Flynn kissed him, whenever they made love or just lay in bed together pressed up close and breathing each other’s air, Yuri allowed himself to hope. Maybe this was their fairy tale ending. After all, hadn’t they done enough to deserve some happiness?

He should have known better than to think that.

Three days after they finally came together and started this terrifying yet beautiful thing between them, Yuri awoke in the middle of the night to Flynn sliding carefully out from beneath the covers. Not knowing what was happening and reacting more on instinct than anything else, he lay perfectly still and kept his breathing even as he listened to Flynn limp carefully around the room, cloth rustling as he dressed before a series of soft clicks announced that he’d put on the prosthesis. Where was he going at this time of night?

The soft hopping noises Flynn had initially made while moving turned into uneven taps as the bottom of the prosthesis made contact with the hard floor. There was more rustling and the soft sliding noise of Flynn tying his sword to his belt. Then a few heartbeats of dead silence as Yuri realized Flynn was watching him. He tried not to fidget, focusing all his attention on keeping his breathing measured and his face relaxed. It must have worked because, after another moment, Flynn let out a soft breath, stepped carefully over Repede who was curled up on the floor, and let himself quietly out of the room.

Yuri was up almost as soon as the door had closed behind him. From his spot on the floor, Repede lifted his head and blinked curiously up at him. The dog didn’t seem particularly concerned, which assuaged some of Yuri’s worry—Repede could usually sense when something was really wrong, after all—but he knew he needed to find out for himself what Flynn was doing. Pausing just long enough to snatch his sword up from where he’d set it against the dresser, he hurried out the door and down the stairs.

The night air was cool, almost bitingly so, when Yuri finally made it outside. He suppressed a shiver, taking the time to pull his jacket more closely about himself before glancing sideways at Repede. The war dog just yawned, taking a moment to stretch before ambling down the street. He paused every once in a while to sniff at the ground, presumably to pick up fresh traces of Flynn’s scent. Keeping a firm grip on his sword, Yuri followed him.

Repede led him down several roads and side alleys until they were at the very outskirts of the city, just within sight of the western bridge. The clearing there, roughly the size of a children’s playground, had become quite familiar to Yuri over the years: it was the primary sparring ground of Dahngrest’s various warrior guilds. A rack of wooden practice weapons stood propped up against one of the buildings, and the moonlight shone down upon the wide circles drawn in the dirt, each one a space where many a guildsman had been thrown, punched, kicked and bruised during one of the countless fights that took place there every day.

Of course, seeing as most of Dahngrest was asleep right now, the clearing was mostly empty—mostly, that was, except for Flynn. Repede sat back on his haunches and scratched rapidly at his ear. Yuri, following his example, leaned one shoulder against the wall of the building, content to watch now that he knew they were in no danger.

Whether by choice or obliviousness, Flynn hadn’t reacted to their arrival. He stood at the edge of the circle closest to the center of the clearing, hefting his sword to check its weight and balance before taking a starting stance, careful not to put unnecessary strain on the prosthesis. One step forward, then two—and Yuri smiled, watching as Flynn melted into the first _kata_.

They’d learned swordfighting together as children in the Lower Quarter, heads bent over the worn, ripped pages of Hank’s old book of beginner’s techniques. Back then, their forms had been similar—they had to be, as they learned from the same source and only practiced with each other. Over the years, though, they’d slowly diverged, blades gradually infused with their individual developing personalities: Yuri more lithe and graceful, his moves characterized by spins and tricky feints; Flynn more forceful and to the point, each strike meticulously planned and designed to hit the first time. Now, as adults, the casual observer would probably never believe they had sprung from the same point, their moves and techniques as different as the lives they had each chosen to lead.

Yet, watching Flynn now going through the basic _kata_ they had each started with, it was easy to see just how similar they still were. Flynn gripped his sword the same way, did the same forward pivot, even had the tendency to leave his nondominant side unguarded during a feint the same way Yuri did. The only real difference was the occasional blockiness of his movements, how every once in a while he would stumble just slightly as the prosthesis struggled to keep up with the rest of his limbs.

Despite that, Yuri was hard-pressed to think of a more beautiful sight. The bright moonlight glinted off the edge of Flynn’s blade, winking like the holder of all the world’s secrets, and each individual strand of his blond hair caught the light and seemed to shine with a surreal glow. His eyes, too, shone hard and determined in the half-light, and Yuri welcomed the tightness in his chest, the way his heart occasionally skipped a beat every time Flynn executed a smooth stroke or spun with a grace Yuri had thought he’d never witness again.

He didn’t know how much time passed, how many minutes he spent just standing there watching as Flynn completed his _kata_. All he knew was that, when Flynn finally straightened from his finishing stance and said, without turning around, “You going to stand there all day?”, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised.

Yuri reached down to pat Repede once on the head, getting a satisfied little _whuff_ in response, before balancing his sword over his shoulder and stepping into the clearing. “Come here often?” he asked, with a cheeky grin.

That earned him a sideways glance and a smile. When Flynn turned to face him, Yuri noted he made only the barest stumble on the prosthesis. “What’re you doing here, Yuri?”

Yuri shrugged. “Woke up when you left. Had to make sure you weren’t running off to do something stupid.”

Flynn snorted. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I think in the realm of ‘stupid,’ you’ve got me beat.”

“Oh?” It was a testament to how far they’d come that Yuri didn’t feel even a hint of guilt at that; rather, his grin widened. “Careful, Flynn. Those’re fighting words.”

Flynn tilted his head and returned the grin with mock-derision. “Challenging me, are you, guildsman?”

Yuri flicked the sheath of his sword out of the circle, grasping the familiar, leather-bound handle and taking an offensive stance. “You bet your ass, _Commandant_.”

Flynn mirrored the stance with a smirk. “Remember, I’m handicapped. So _when_ —not if—I win, that’s twice the shame you’ll bear.”

“Not if I kick your ass first.”

“Bring it.”

Yuri had to give Flynn credit; the slow methodicalness with which he’d performed the _kata_ previously vanished as soon as the first blow was struck. Indeed, as they danced from one end of the sparring circle to the other, blades flashing in the light and metal singing out at each contact, Yuri couldn’t help but admire how far Flynn had come in so short a time. His moves were as practiced as ever, his technique flawless, and if every once in a while he still stumbled on an awkward step and Yuri conveniently ignored the slip rather than going in for a strike, the gratitude in Flynn’s eyes more than made up for it.

Several minutes later found them sprawled side by side in the dirt, sweaty, exhausted and gasping for breath. Flynn reached over and thumped Yuri on the shoulder. “Let’s call it a draw.”

“Are you kidding? That last blow I landed would totally have taken out your kidney.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

“Last I checked, my kidney isn’t located in my shoulder.”

“…Well, if you hadn’t blocked, _then_ I would’ve skewered your kidney.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Your _face_ is incorrigible.”

“That doesn’t even make sen—oh, fuck it. Get over here.”

And, laughing, Yuri went, rolling half on top of Flynn—mindful of his leg—and bending down to kiss his lover. Flynn returned his affections with equal fervor, fingers sliding almost unconsciously through the strands of Yuri’s long hair, and they kissed for what felt like hours before Yuri finally pulled back, smiling down at Flynn’s flushed face and swollen lips.

“Not that I’m not into an occasional round of exhibitionism,” he whispered, “but I’m thinking we should take this inside. Preferably to my bedroom.”

Flynn swallowed, and the way those blue eyes darkened with predatory desire sent a shudder of heat down Yuri’s spine. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Yuri answered, rising to his feet and offering Flynn a hand. “‘Cause I can think of one or two even better ideas, if you get my drift.”

Flynn laughed, taking the hand and allowing Yuri to haul him up. “Given your history of very _bad_ ideas, Yuri, I don’t think…” He trailed off, brow furrowing, and Yuri blinked.

“What is it?”

“Did you hear that?” Flynn said. “I could’ve sworn—” A soft _thwit_ sounded out in the dark and he jerked. Yuri gasped. Flynn looked down at the small dart embedded in his shoulder, eyes wide and uncomprehending, before looking back up at Yuri. “What…” And then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

“Flynn!” Yuri moved to catch him but that was when the second _thwit_ came, a sharp sting at the side of his neck, and instantly everything became fuzzy and far away. The world swayed, and Yuri barely registered the sound of Repede’s snarls, of hissed out orders and rapidly approaching footsteps before the ground flew up toward his face and everything went black.

 

He came to awareness slowly, like clawing his way up to the surface through a lake of thick molasses. Yuri groaned, cataloguing each of his senses with his eyes still closed. The dry, musty air and the slightly earthy smell: he was somewhere underground, probably a cellar. The steady, muffled clomp of boots overhead: the room was guarded. The rough slide of ropes around his wrist: his hands were bound behind his back.

The soft rustle of cloth not far away: he wasn’t alone.

He cracked one eye open, then the other. When he saw nothing, panic gripped him for an instant before he realized he wasn’t blind—the room was just completely dark, and as his pupils slowly adjusted to the lack of light, he was able to make out the corners of the room—ten by ten square, by his best estimate—the moldy, empty crates his body rested against, and the thick metal door set in the wall opposite, locked from outside with a bolt and bearing no hope of escape.

Then the memories came, and Yuri coughed, straightening as much as he could against the crates. “Flynn?”

“Here.” The cloth rustled again, and the relief that swept through Yuri at the familiar voice was so thick he almost couldn’t breathe with it.

A moment later, he felt a warm shoulder press against his own, and he let out the breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. “Are you okay?”

Flynn didn’t answer immediately, which was enough to set some of the panic roiling again in Yuri’s stomach. The slight shakiness of his voice when he answered “Yes” certainly didn’t help matters.

Yuri shifted as much as his bound hands would allow so that he and Flynn were pressed side by side from shoulder to thigh. “Tell me,” he said.

It was a testament to how well they knew each other that Flynn picked up on his meaning immediately. His friend inhaled on a shaky breath; Yuri felt the tremble through where they were connected.

“I know this place,” Flynn said at last.

Cold sank in Yuri’s gut like a stone. He’d hoped Flynn wouldn’t say it—anything but this. Anything to spare Flynn the pain Yuri never wanted him to face again.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He needed a clear head, needed to be the strong one now, the support Flynn needed. “Okay. Manor of the Wicked, then?”

“Y-Yes.”

Yuri swallowed at the stammer in Flynn’s voice, and forced as much calm into his own voice as he could. “Okay. Are your hands tied too?”

He already knew the answer—Flynn wouldn’t be leaning against him if his hands were free—but the important thing was to give Flynn something to focus on, something to distract him from the fear that would consume him otherwise.

“Yes. As are yours, right?”

“Yeah.” Yuri straightened, casting about in the dark for something, anything that could be used as a cutting tool. “Okay. Last time you were here, you fought your way out, right? How did you manage it?”

He couldn’t see Flynn shake his head, but it was obvious in the tightness of his answer. “I lured a guard in and managed to overpower him,” he said. “He underestimated me due to my…state at the time. But they’ll have learned that trick by now. It won’t work again.”

“All right.” Yuri leaned his head back against the wall, ignoring the press of unyielding stone against his skull. “Different plan then. The air here’s musty but clean, so there must be some sort of ventilation system, right? An opening of some kind?”

“Tried that.”

“Okay, then the door. We might be able to jimmy the bolt, especially if it’s rusty—”

“Tried that too. Yuri…”

There was that trembling undercurrent to Flynn’s voice again, and Yuri shifted once more, moving in the dark until he could press his forehead to Flynn’s, could feel his lover’s breaths washing quick and panicked over his face. “Flynn,” he said. “Flynn, listen. It’s gonna be all right. I just—I need you to work with me, okay? We’re gonna get out of here, but you gotta keep it together. Okay?”

He tried his best to keep the desperation from his voice, but thought he mostly failed. Still, his words seemed to have some effect on Flynn, who took a deep breath, exhaled in a long _whoosh_ , and abruptly stilled. Yuri could almost see the soldier’s iron control clamping down, a suit of armor stronger than any metal.

When Flynn spoke, it was soft, determined. “I won’t let you die down here,” he said, and Yuri tried to laugh.

“Yeah, man, kind of the point—”

“I know a way to get out,” Flynn continued, then sighed. “You won’t like it, though.”

Yuri blinked. “What are you—”

 The sudden screech of the bolt on the door sliding back sounded out like a gunshot in the room, and they both startled. Yuri made an instinctive grab for a sword that wasn’t there, then gritted his teeth against the shock of pain as the skin of his wrists scraped against the rough rope. He didn’t cry out, though. He wasn’t about to grant their captors that luxury.

The light that seeped in when the door opened could not have been brighter than normal indoor illumination, yet it might as well have been Duke’s Big Bang for how it stabbed at Yuri’s sensitive eyes. He couldn’t help the instinctive flinch, and next to him Flynn fared no better, hissing and ducking away from the onslaught.

Measured, even footsteps entered the room, and Yuri managed a glare despite the pain, looking up at the new arrival. The man who entered was clearly military, each stride measured and even the same way Flynn’s were, and he carried in one hand an oil lamp, flame sputtering in the dark. His dark hair was cut to simple regulation, and his face was exactly the kind you could never pick out of a crowd, features so average you could probably have held an entire conversation with the guy and afterward not remembered anything about what he looked like.

That didn’t seem to be a problem for Flynn, though. Yuri felt more than saw his friend stiffen next to him, drawing in breath on a sharp hiss. “Vomeer.”

Vomeer smiled; Yuri had seen snakes with less venom in their eyes. “Commandant Scifo. I’m so pleased you remember me.” He turned to Yuri then, eyes lighting in amusement. “And you must be the notorious Yuri Lowell. I must admit I was a little surprised when I first heard of your relationship to the Commandant. But then again, no one would’ve suspected just how _close_ the two of you were, hm?”

Yuri grit his teeth and said nothing. Vomeer nodded at his silence like it was exactly what he’d expected and crossed the room to place the lamp on a nearby crate. Yuri glanced quickly at Flynn in its faint, flickering light: he didn’t look hurt and his clothes were still streaked with dirt from their sparring match. The prosthesis was gone, though; Yuri guessed their captors had removed it to make sure they couldn’t take it apart to engineer some means of escape.

Not that it would have helped them now. Watching as two more soldiers entered the room, swords tied neatly to their belts, Yuri knew they would need more than just spit and a few spare parts to get out of this one.

He took a deep breath and forced the mad swirl of his thoughts into some semblance of order. Okay. With their hands restrained and Flynn with only one working leg, their chances of breaking their way out of the room by brute force were slim at best. There were no weapons in sight, and without blastia neither he nor Flynn could risk a spell without doing themselves severe injury. What else, what else?

 _Flynn._ He’d said he had a plan—one Yuri already had a bad feeling about, but a plan nonetheless. He didn’t like it, but he was out of choices. Yuri took a breath and looked up at Vomeer’s cold, sneering face.

Time. He didn’t know what Flynn was thinking of doing, but Yuri knew, somehow, that he would need to buy Flynn some time.

Reaching into the part of himself that had always served him well in battle, he put on his best trademarked smirk and said, “For the guy supposedly heading up this whole operation, you sure don’t look like much.”

“Oh?” Vomeer’s smile turned amused. “And what gave you the idea that I’m the boss here?”

Yuri snorted. “Are you kidding me? The way _you_ act? You’ve practically got ‘pompous ass’ scribbled across your forehead.”

Vomeer chuckled, not at all friendly, and turned to Flynn. “Your boyfriend’s perceptive, I’ll give him that,” he said, “but he’s really not the one I’m interested in talking to right now. We’ve missed you around here, Commandant. Shall we pick up where we left off?”

To Flynn’s credit, none of the fear and panic from before showed in his face as he lifted his chin and said, “Even if I knew the formula Alexei used, I’d never tell the likes of you.” His hands shifted minutely behind his back. Yuri couldn’t see what he was doing.

“Loyal to the last,” Vomeer sneered. “But what if I were to, ah…persuade you?”

Flynn narrowed his eyes. His next words were even, almost matter-of-fact. “By doing what? Taking a sledgehammer to my other leg?”

Cold rose in Yuri and he swallowed in spite of himself. Flynn had never talked about it, never gone into detail about what, exactly, he’d endured while under Vomeer’s torture, but to have it laid out before him, so plain and terrible…Yuri tried to imagine it, Vomeer standing over Flynn with that demonic smile, bringing the hammer down to smash through skin and muscle and bone…

Vomeer’s derisive hum brought him out of his gruesome thoughts. “Seeing as doing that the last time had no effect, I’ve no reason to believe it’ll work this time,” he said, before his smile broadened. “But you seem to have forgotten one key thing, Commandant. You’re not the only prisoner in this room.” He looked Yuri up and down, the filthy appraisal in his eyes enough to make Yuri’s skin crawl. “I wonder if you’ll still be so close-mouthed when I’m breaking Mr. Lowell’s fingers?”

Flynn stiffened at the words, and his eyes turned to daggers of ice. Yuri might have been imagining it, but he could swear the room was beginning to grow warmer. Flynn’s hands continued to move surreptitiously behind his back. What the hell was he _doing?_

“If you touch him,” Flynn said then, and his voice was low and sang not with threat but with promise, “I’ll kill you.”

If the murderous venom in his words affected Vomeer, the man didn’t show it. He motioned to one of the other soldiers who obediently stepped forward and handed Vomeer a thin wooden box. When the man reached in and drew from it a long serrated knife, blade winking evilly in the dim light, Yuri knew this was not going to be a good day.

Next to him, the soft yet sharp indrawn breath told him Flynn was thinking the same thing. Yuri didn’t look at him, instead leveling what he hoped was a threatening glare in Vomeer’s direction. He must not have succeeded, though, because Vomeer just turned the knife over in his hand before taking a step forward.

Yuri forced himself not to shrink back, but it was a close thing. He tried to keep his eyes on Vomeer and not the knife, but mostly failed. The fear bubbled up inside him despite his best efforts.

Yuri had been in a lot of battles throughout his life. He’d killed innumerable beasts and not a few human beings, and had endured more than his fair share of serious injuries (case en pointe: the last few days), so he was no stranger to pain. Yet he’d never been tortured before. And Flynn was more than evidence enough of the horrors Vomeer was capable of perpetrating.

As Vomeer crouched over him, held up the knife, and remarked, “Perhaps I should start with an ear?” Yuri squeezed his eyes shut and hoped he’d be able to keep from screaming.

He needn’t have worried. Flynn’s voice broke through the silence, the rising panic. “All right.”

In front of Yuri, Vomeer tilted his head and turned to look at Flynn. Yuri did too, if only so he could watch something other than the knife. Flynn’s expression was resigned, his lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed to have gotten paler over the last few minutes. It was also all of a sudden very, very warm.

An itch formed at the back of Yuri’s mind, something nebulous yet familiar that set off alarm bells inside his head. Something about the sudden warmth in the air…it wasn’t right. Whatever Flynn was planning, it couldn’t be good.

Vomeer’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “All right what?”

Flynn lifted his chin. “I’ll tell you Alexei’s formula,” he said. His voice was completely even and toneless; Yuri could read nothing from it.

That didn’t keep the confusion from rising up within him. Alexei’s formula? But that was impossible. Even Rita didn’t know it; how could Flynn? And if he did know, why hadn’t he told Vomeer the first time?

Vomeer straightened up and took a few steps toward Flynn, who watched him without blinking. Yuri tried to catch Flynn’s eye, to get an idea of what his plan was, but Flynn refused to look at him.

Vomeer placed his hands on his hips. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said. “What’s the formula?”

Flynn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And that was when Yuri saw it: the glow, faint yet clear, a tint of glinting yellow aer emanating from Flynn’s hands behind his back.

And everything fell suddenly, terribly into place.

“ _O divine spear, run my enemy through,_ ” Flynn murmured.

The building warmth from before erupted into an explosion of fire, the entire room suddenly seeming to stagger under a fog of heat so intense it felt like all of Yuri’s skin had been set alight. He jerked against his bonds. “Flynn, _no!_ ”

Flynn opened his eyes; blue flashed out defiant in the half-light. “You shouldn’t have threatened him,” he said. “ _Holy Lance!_ ”

“ _Flynn!_ ”

Everything exploded. The blast of heat and light hit Yuri like a punch to the chest and he flew back into a pile of crates. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and he fell to the floor amidst a mess of wooden splinters.

Everything went fuzzy and distant for a moment. Yuri groaned, clawing at the thread of his consciousness, trying to force himself back to awareness because Flynn was…was…

An eternity later, the shadowy cobwebs at the edge of his vision finally cleared. Yuri shook his head and did a quick self-check: nothing hurt too badly beyond a few bruises, and there was now some give in his arms—the impact with the crates must have loosened the ropes some. Quickly he tugged at his bonds, casting about in the dusty darkness for—

“Flynn!”

The force of Flynn’s spell had caused part of the ceiling to cave in, everything covered in dust and loose wood boards, yet even in the mess Yuri still made out the shock of blond hair as Flynn shifted in response to his voice, letting out a tiny whimper of pain. Yuri couldn’t see his injuries from this distance, but he already knew Flynn must have sustained extensive damage from casting such an advanced arte without a bodhi blastia. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

“Flynn, hold on!” Yuri yanked at his bonds again; they gave a little more, but not enough. Gritting his teeth, he cast about for some sort of weapon, anything sharp that he might be able to cut the ropes on…

A rustle of movement and a thick cough, and Yuri’s blood ran cold when he saw Vomeer claw his way out from beneath a pile of debris. Burns blistered over half his body and he was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and his dark eyes when they settled on Flynn only a few feet away glittered with a wickedness bordering on maniacal.

Vomeer grabbed a nearby sword and began dragging himself forward toward Flynn—Flynn who lay unmoving on the ground, weak and defenseless. Desperation flared and Yuri wrenched at his bonds again, cursing when they refused to give. He needed a sword, a flame, anything to sever these goddamned ropes—

Vomeer was getting closer and closer to Flynn, the blade of his sword glinting with evil promise. Flynn still hadn’t moved. Yuri closed his eyes, took a breath, and grasped for his focus, the warrior within and, underneath that, the part of himself that always had, and always would, do anything for Flynn.

The decision took no effort at all.

Bracing himself with one shoulder against the wall, Yuri breathed in, set his jaw, and _shoved_. The pain that flared up his arm, accompanying the sharp _crack_ of his wrist dislocating, was enough to make him bite straight through his bottom lip, flooding his mouth with the taste of blood—but Yuri ignored it because he was loose, the ropes dropping from around his wrists and he scrambled to his feet, grabbed a sword from one of the soldiers’ corpses and sprang at Vomeer, Vomeer who had reached Flynn, who was just now lifting his blade and preparing to deliver the finishing blow—

Yuri reveled in the cry of pain and surprise that ripped from Vomeer’s mouth when he slammed into the other man, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Yuri was up first, and before Vomeer could grab for his fallen blade, before he could even cry out, Yuri heaved up and drove his sword into the other man’s chest.

Vomeer gasped, then made a terrible gurgling sound as blood bubbled up over his lips. Yuri leaned over him and watched as he bled. He thought he should say something, one last taunt for the man to take to his grave, but in the end he decided Vomeer deserved not even that. So Yuri just stood there, watching as the light slowly faded from the other man’s eyes, assured in the knowledge that his face was the last thing Vomeer saw on this earth.

When at last the rise and fall of Vomeer’s chest ceased and the awareness left his eyes entirely, Yuri let out a breath and allowed himself the brief, hopeful thought: _It’s over._ Then he heaved himself to his feet and rushed to Flynn.

Flynn groaned when Yuri carefully turned him over, and Yuri had to suppress a pained sound of his own when he got his first good look at Flynn’s arm. He must have concentrated the arte in just his right hand because the left one was fine. The right one, however…Yuri swallowed, peering down at the mess of burns and charred flesh, the result of casting artes without a bodhi blastia. Could Estelle heal this? What if she couldn’t? What if…

Beneath him, Flynn shifted, cracking one blue eye open. The corner of his mouth twitched up, shaky with pain. “S’not as bad as it looks.”

“Liar,” Yuri answered, and they both ignored how his voice shook as he checked Flynn over for other injuries. “Can you get up?”

“I think so,” Flynn answered, slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position with his good hand and hissing when the movement jolted his injured arm. “Shit. Think I set a record for number of injured limbs in a short time period?”

“Ha ha,” Yuri answered, ignoring the flare of pain from his own dislocated wrist as he hoisted Flynn’s injured arm over his shoulder and hauled them both slowly to their feet. “For the record, when we get back, you and I are going to have _words._ ”

“I look forward to it,” Flynn answered, picking up Vomeer’s discarded sword as Yuri drew his own blade from the dead man’s body. “But first, we should probably focus on getting out of here alive.”

“Agreed.” Yuri listened to the frantic stampede of footsteps coming from above them—the rest of the dissident group, no doubt by now alerted to what had happened—and gave Flynn a grim smile. “Shall we?”

The journey through the door and up the half-rotted wooden stairs seemed to take an eternity between Flynn limping along on his good leg and Yuri trying to ignore the burning pain shooting up from his wrist. When they finally burst through the upstairs door and into one of the Manor’s many dimly-lit hallways, though, Yuri allowed himself a brief flare of hope when he saw that the area was empty. Maybe they would make it out. Maybe…

“There they are!”

They both turned to see a group of five or six armed men barreling toward them from down a side hallway. Yuri looked at Flynn, who nodded. Together, they lifted their swords. If they were going to die here…

A sudden, sharp bark, and an instant later blue flashed across the hall and one of the men went down with a scream, Repede’s teeth sunk firmly into his shoulder. The rest fell under an onslaught of hammer, spear and chain—Karol, Judith and Rita all leaping into the fray.

Yuri could tell by the way Flynn stiffened against his shoulder that his friend was just as surprised as he was. But he didn’t have time to think much on it because suddenly there were pounding footsteps coming from the other direction and he spun just in time to see another group of dissidents approaching from the other side, swords raised and ready to fight—

“ _Grahh!_ ”

A thick two-by-four swung out of nowhere, catching two of the men and sending them flying into a nearby wall. Yuri could only stare. “Lundgren?”

The giant carpenter kicked another man away as easily as a rag doll before turning to them with a big, yellow-toothed smile. “Hello,” he said, easy as you please, as if he had just happened to run into Yuri and Flynn in one of Dahngrest’s taverns.

An arrow shot out from behind him, catching another dissident in the gut, and Raven stepped out from the giant man’s shadow, giving them both an easy salute. “Evenin’. You boys look like ya could use a little help.”

Next to him, Flynn laughed softly, tinged with pain yet still light. “How did you find us?”

“The—ah, excuse me.” Lundgren swung his piece of lumber around again to send a man who had been trying to sneak up behind them tumbling back down the hallway. Then he turned back to them and continued, “The dog. Yours, yeah? He lead us here.”

Yuri shook his head. “Good old Repede.”

As if summoned, Repede appeared at their side, woofing and running happy circles around them both. An instant later Karol, Judith and Rita joined them, followed shortly by Estelle, who instantly zeroed in on Flynn’s arm. “Oh Flynn, what happened?”

“Idiocy,” Yuri answered before Flynn could. “Can you fix it?”

…He probably deserved the withered look Estelle gave him. “Honestly, Yuri,” she said, and in a flash of light, the burns on Flynn’s arm had been reduced to nothing but light pink scar tissue. Estelle then placed gentle fingers on Yuri’s injured wrist and took care of that too.

Rita stepped forward. “We found this in one of the other rooms,” she said, holding up the prosthesis.

Flynn took it from her and had barely finished putting it on when new voices erupted at the end of the hallway.

“Do not let them escape!”

“Get ‘em!”

The fresh wave of enemies bore down on them, weapons drawn and murder in their eyes. Rita rolled her eyes as if this was all very off-putting and tightened her chain around her wrists. Judith spun her spear and took a ready stance; Karol and Estelle followed suit. Raven scratched his chin. Lundgren mumbled something in a foreign language and hefted his two-by-four.

Yuri looked at Flynn. His friend lifted his sword, turning it once, graceful and easy, and smiled. “After you.”

Yuri grinned, finally allowing the fighter within to break through, and leaped forward.

 

Night had fallen by the time they finally trudged back into Dahngrest, bruised and tired yet unmistakably victorious. Yuri glanced at Flynn out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but smile. They were here; they were alive. It was over.

Any dissidents who hadn’t been killed in the battle had been rounded up and taken prisoner, kept under the watchful eye of Adifer and his men. There were probably still a few stragglers scattered throughout Tolbyccia, but the Knights would find them shortly, and without Vomeer they were bound to become disorganized and ineffective anyway. The threat of Alexei and the last remnants of his influence were finally gone.

The streets were quiet as they made their way back toward Brave Vesperia’s headquarters. All the Knights except for Adifer had not proceeded beyond the entrance to the city, and Lundgren had left them a few blocks back, giving a friendly wave over his shoulder and he turned toward the Carpenter’s Guild. Now Adifer was the only addition to their group, conversing in low tones with Estelle as they walked.

Yuri, for his part, was looking forward to getting back to his own bed, wrapping himself around Flynn, and maybe sleeping for the next couple of years. He could tell by the way Flynn swayed just slightly on his feet, each movement causing him to brush lightly against Yuri’s shoulder, that his friend probably had the same idea.

Which was why, when they finally reached the building and entered the lobby, Yuri was more than a little indignant when Adifer stepped forward and said, quietly, “Sir. If I could have a moment?”

Flynn blinked at him, clearly caught off guard, but he eventually nodded. “Of course.” He looked over at Yuri. “See you in a bit?”

Yuri shrugged. “Sure.”

Repede had chosen to spend the night outside—he did that sometimes, especially when the air smelled a certain way—so the room was empty when Yuri walked in. He showered quickly, just enough to wash off the grime from being in Vomeer’s captivity, and the mattress felt like heaven when he finally sank onto it, pulling the covers up and closing his eyes.

He didn’t sleep. Call it pathetic, but after only a handful of days sleeping with Flynn, Yuri now found he couldn’t catch a wink by himself anymore. Flynn had broken him. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought.

A few minutes later, footsteps came up the stairs and the door opened to admit Flynn. He smiled at Yuri in the darkness. Yuri thought it looked a little strained.

To his credit, he waited until after Flynn had washed and was sitting on the edge of the bed toweling his hair dry to pose the question. “What did Adifer say?”

Flynn paused in his movements and his shoulders stiffened; it was quick, less than a second, but Yuri caught it like a camera flash. Flynn cleared his throat. “Ah…nothing important.”

“Uh-huh.” Yuri pushed himself up on one elbow, fixing Flynn with his steadiest look. “Try again.”

Flynn sighed and looked away. In an uncharacteristic bout of patience, Yuri waited for him.

Finally, Flynn sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Lucius offered me a job,” he said. “The Council has apparently reversed their decision regarding my status as a supposed defector. They’re offering me an invitation back into the Knights.”

Yuri blinked. “But…with your injury…”

“It’s not for the Commandant post,” Flynn said. “Lucius has been performing admirably in that role, and yes, my leg poses a problem. No, the position he offered me is…less glamorous. Just a simple desk job. Documents analysis, that sort of thing.”

Yuri tried to imagine Flynn seated behind a desk twenty-four seven, stamping document after eye-gougingly boring document, and he couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, right. How far up his ass did you tell him to shove it?”

Flynn didn’t answer. Neither did he look at Yuri. The amusement faded, and Yuri swallowed. “Wait. Flynn. You didn’t actually…you’re not actually thinking of _taking_ the job, are you?”

Still Flynn said nothing, which was more than answer enough. Yuri felt the anger rise despite his best efforts, and he heaved himself up to a seated position. “Are you seriously… _Flynn._ ”

Flynn raised his chin and set his shoulders. “I can’t just rely on other people for the rest of my life, Yuri,” he said. “I need to be able to provide for myself.” He still refused to look Yuri directly in the eye though.

Yuri scooted to the side of the bed so that he could look at Flynn more closely. “That’s fine, I agree with that,” he said. “You could find something in Dahngrest—”

“Yeah, right.” Flynn looked away. “The former Commandant of the Imperial Knights, trying to join a guild. Yuri, I’d be laughed out of town.”

Yuri frowned. “That’s not true—”

“It is and you know it.” Flynn ducked his head. “I don’t have a choice, Yuri. I can’t stay here—the guilds will tolerate me, but that’s all they’ll do. Zaphias is my only choice.”

“No, it isn’t.” Yuri took his hand, curling calloused fingers around freshly-healed skin. “You’ve also got me.”

Flynn huffed a laugh at that, though it was humorless. “What, you’ll come to Zaphias with me? Get the Schwann Brigade chasing you all around town again?”

“No.” Yuri looked straight at him. “I won’t come with you to Zaphias, because that’s not where you’re going.”

Flynn blinked. “Then where?”

Yuri shrugged. “Anywhere, really. Although I’m partial to Aurnion, myself. Kind of the place where everything began, right?”

He saw it the instant Flynn finally understood what he was saying because his friend’s eyes abruptly widened. He stared at Yuri for a few more moments. “Yuri, are you…?”

“Yeah.” Yuri brushed a kiss over Flynn’s knuckles. “You can’t work with the guilds, and I can’t work with the Empire. So we’ll just go somewhere where neither of them have an influence.”

“Yuri.” Flynn frowned. “You’ve built a life for yourself here. You have a guild that’s well-respected in the region, friends who care for and support you. You can’t just leave all that behind.”

Yuri just shrugged again. “Karol and Judy’re more than capable of running Brave Vesperia by themselves. And we can visit everyone else whenever we want.” He paused and met Flynn’s gaze. “We agreed to try, remember? And yeah, I’ve built myself a life here, but now I want to build a new one. With you.”

Flynn stared at him for a long time. Yuri looked right back, watching as the surprise in Flynn’s eyes eventually shifted into acknowledgement and, finally, into acceptance.

Flynn’s smile made something warm blossom in Yuri’s heart. “I’ll have you know I’m picking out the curtains,” he said.

Yuri grinned around the relief unfolding in his chest. “What, you don’t trust my interior decorating skills?”

“Not when it would result in our house looking like a funeral home.”

“Hey, black is a great color!”

“Yeah, maybe if we became bandits.”

“…Well…”

“ _No,_ Yuri.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and blew out a breath, trying to look as put-upon as possible. “Fine,” he said. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Flynn tilted his head. A warm smile spread across his face, the most beautiful thing Yuri had ever seen.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice soft. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Regarding translations:** All my works, including this one, can be translated without first asking my express permission. I ask only that you credit me as the original author and provide a link back to the original work. For anything other than translations, please ask first. Thanks.


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